


For Eternity

by HCKYGRL72



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Parade's End - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Babies, DaddyBatch, Drama, F/M, Family, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hope, Loving Marriage, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut, Tragedy, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:19:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 91,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HCKYGRL72/pseuds/HCKYGRL72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Armistice Day 11/11/1918, Christopher Tietjens and Valentine Wannop make a life together and live well into their 90s. What stories will they tell us? Get your tissues out (for tears and drool)! For all the Cumberbunnies out there looking for a good story to cozy up with about this wonderful love story.</p><p>Please read and review.....I love feedback</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They died within a few days of each other. Neither one was ill, just old. They both seem to know their time in this world was ending. Grandpapa Tietjens was the first to depart this world, quietly, in his sleep. His wife, Valentine, we called her Grandma Val, knew the moment he had gone. 

He had always held her hand as they slept over the fifty plus years they had spent together. When her hand slipped from his grasp, she knew he was gone. Grandma Val lay in the bed with her lover’s body in the soft glow of night side lamp, her frail body draped over his body as she silently wept. She did not notice me as I peered into the room to check on her when I heard her crying.

My name is Anastasia Clementine Tietjens. I am the great-granddaughter to Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Tietjens, the two most wonderful people on the planet. My father, Christopher was named after Grandpapa Tietjens, who is son of Grandpapa and Grandma Val’s son, Daniel, a brave, honorable and heroic man. I am going to tell you their story, but first I have to tell you how I learned about Grandpapa and Grandma’s great and courageous life together.

Morning came as it always had. The family seat at Groby in Yorkshire was a place of constant movement. Several generations of the Tietjens family lived at Groby now, some in the main house, others on homes they had built on the vast property. It was home regardless where you lived, and breakfast was always a grand affair. Grandpapa Tietjens was always at the table in the morning, Grandma Val serving and feeding me his food in a kind and gentle manner. Grandpapa had a stroke over ten years earlier, paralyzing the right side of his body. He had to learn how to do everything again, including how to speak, which he could do very well given his paralysis. Even in his weakened state, many had witnessed his grown sons and grandsons back down from an argument with Grandpapa. And while Grand papa’s right side was paralyzed, his left was not, and in one particular argument not too long before his death, he had punched a much younger man with a vicious left hook that stunned everyone. It was quite funny watching Grandma Val admonish Grandpapa for his actions. We were never quite sure what happened, but Grand papa’s processions of “he had it coming!” and deep chuckling under his breath were too much for Grandma Val, who stormed out of the room in irritation. Later on, in the evening, I was surprised to find Grandpapa and Grandma cuddled together on the settee in the library, giggling about the whole affair. Grandpapa had even but his left hand on Grandma’s behind and they were kissing! At the time, this was shocking for a young girl of only seven years only, but now that I am of a more mature age of twelve, I now understand.

I was disappointed when I arrived in the dining room at Groby that Grandpapa Tietjens was not there yet. Nevertheless, I knew he and Grandma Val would be along shortly. I had pulled the high-back chair away from the table to make room for Grand papa’s wheelchair. And I ran all the way to the entrance of the Groby front gate (quite a long way I might add) to pick up the newspaper for Grandpapa. I even wore a dress, since Grandma and Grandpapa preferred it to my bell-bottom jeans. They were soo old-fashioned.

People took their places around the table, not a care in the world. However, my young eyes spotted movement coming from the hallway. I saw Grandma Val walking slowly and serenely towards the dining room. She was fully dressed for the day, but Grandpapa was not with her. She always escorted him to the dining room in the morning, it was tradition; and there is one thing a Tietjens loves, its tradition.

I was the only one who saw her, everyone else engrossed in conversation. I dropped my buttered toast onto the plate and pushed away from the table. No one really noticed. I skipped towards Grandma Val, who gazed at me with sad eyes. My brow furrowed in concern at her look of sadness, but I decided I would cheer her up.

“Good Morning, Grandma Val! I saved you and Grandpapa a seat next to me. I even pulled the chair away from the table so Grand papa’s wheelchair could be there! And I got the paper, so I can read it to Grandpapa!” I spoke too fast and breathlessly with anticipation. I just wanted to see Grandma Val smile. And she did smile, kinda, as she reaching down to take my hand. “You are a sweet child, Ana.”

“You look sad. Why are you sad, Grandma Val?” I wondered as the soft, frail hand holding mine began to quiver with pent up emotion. I knew something bad had happened. My eyes peered around Grandma Val, looking for Grandpapa, who was never far behind, especially in the morning. “Where is Grandpapa?” My eyes filed with watery tears as I looked at my Grandma’s softly wrinkled face.

“See hear. Take my hand, and help me to the dining room.” She lightly squeezed my hand and we continued slowly towards the dining room. The tears in my eyes no longer unshed, but rolling down my face since I knew what was to come. The loyal servants of Groby were busy cleaning at the end of the hall, far away from dining room, watched curiously as my beloved Grandma Val and I slowly walked through the dining room archway. They too were surprised by Grandma Val’s singular arrival, and they paused in their work, curious.

Much of the conversation in the dining area hushed as we entered, and then, there was sudden clash of cutlery falling against dinnerware, and soft sobbing as Grandma Val announced the passing of Christopher Tietjens. 

 

Plans for a grand funeral were set in motion. Everything had been arranged long ago, but Grandma Val was not interested in any of it. It would be a few days before the funeral could be held, so many in the family tried to convince Grandma Val to move Grandpapa to a funeral home, where he could prepared properly.

“He’s not a leg of lamb that needs ‘preparing’!” Grandma Val shouted at her children and grandchildren, as she stood at the foot of the bed, where Christopher’s body lay. The same bed they had shared for soooo many years. Where so many sorrows had been bore, so many arguments resolved, so many children had been created, where they had created a life they never thought possible.  
“Mother, please.” Isabel, the eldest daughter, pleaded. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and worry over her father’s body and her mother’s mind.  
“NO! He will not be removed from Groby! I forbid it.” Valentine’s voice sounded manic and overwrought. “Everyone, please. Two days. It is all I ask.” Valentine took a few deep breaths to calm herself. The group of people in the bedroom doorway started to disburse. Valentine sobbed once, the handkerchief in her fist, crumbled beyond use. Isabel walked toward her mother, embracing her softly, gently, as if not to break her fragile mother.  
“Oh, mother.” Isabel spoken softly to her mother, as she stroked her mother’s hair. Valentine pulled away to gazed at her eldest daughter. Soft waves of golden hair, green eyes, and cupid bow lips. Yes, she was her father’s daughter. All the children Valentine had borne for Christopher had much of the same coloring. Golden hair, with some having darker shades, reminiscent of her brother Edward and Christopher’s brother, Mark; lighter eyes, although the boys all seem to have gained Valentine’s brown ones. Many of the children had inherited Christopher’s keen intellect and aptitude for numbers. Even some of the girls, which both intrigued and confounded Christopher when Valentine insisted that Isabel be sent to university. One of the many debates Christopher and Valentine would have over the years. 

The thought brought a smile to Valentine’s aged face as she gazed at Isabel. Her gaze wandered to her dead lover, lying peacefully just a few feet away from them. Isabel followed her mother’s gaze, a soft cry of angst escaping her lips.  
“What am I to do without him, Isabel?” Valentine whispered as she gazed at the face of the man who had given her everything; and who she had given everything to. Valentine had no more tears to shed. Isabel did not know what to say, she just knew a great man was gone from this earth.   
“Isabel, could you please send Ana to me?” Valentine asked softly. Isabel snapped out of her musings and memories of her father.   
“Of course.” Isabel left the room, glancing back at her mother who walked to sit in the chair next to the bed. Valentine sat in the wooden chair next to the bed, gazing at her beloved. She stroked his cheek lovingly.  
“So cold.” A frown deepening the lines around her face. She continued to stroke his hair in reverence.  
“It’s almost time, my love.” She whispered sweetly. She was unsure what she expected to happen. Perhaps she was waiting for Christopher to agree with her, argue with her, laugh at her. Anything, but this, she though solemnly.   
“Mother?” Isabel called from the doorway of the room. “Ana is here.” Isabel waited. Valentine motioned for Isabel to bring Ana into the room. Isabel hesitated and spoke softly to Ana just out of view. Isabel walked swiftly into the room, toward her mother.  
“Mother! I do not think it is appropriate for Ana to come in here.” Isabel announced, her hands gripping the back of the high-back wooden chair.  
“Why?” Valentine asked innocently.  
“Why? WHY?” Isabel exhaled a frustrated breath, pausing collected her thoughts. Isabel looked to the doorway to ensure Ana safely in the hallway. “Ana has lost both her parents. And now her…her beloved Grandpapa… and you would traipse her in here to see his dead body?” 

Valentine understood Isabel concerns. Ana had never seen her parent’s bodies; she had been too young when they died tragically in a car accident. It was only God’s good graces that Ana was left at Groby that night that she too had not been killed. Although Valentine had no way to confirm it, but she believed, it was because of the death of his grandson that Christopher had the stroke less than a year later.   
“Not to see his dead body, no. To say good-bye.” Valentine placed a hand over Isabel’s, as she gazed lovingly at her. There was soo much more to Valentine’s words. Isabel nodded in agreement and walked toward the door. Isabel crouched down to Ana to speak softly. A smile spread across Isabel’s face as she nodded in unison with Ana. Isabel always had a way with children, Valentine thought, as she watched in the mirror at the exchange. Perhaps it was wrong to bring the child in here. However, she had to do it. Ana was special to her and Christopher. The last grandchild they would see come into this world… hold in their arms. Nevertheless, Isabel was good with the children; she supposed being the oldest girl in a family of nine children, you would acquire a few skills on how to handle children. Sweet Isabel. Valentine thought.

I walked cautiously into the bedroom. I had seen the room before. Grandpapa always let me tuck him in at night. In addition, he would always kiss my favorite stuff animal and me at the time. There were times I would change my stuffed animal from one to another, and he would require a proper introduction. I never minded the way talked or if a little spittle would come out. I would just wipe it away real quick. He would always thank me. I just thought that is way he talked. I remembered as I walked closer to the bed, when I would read scary stories to him and he would make wonderfully scary growling and monster sounds just at the right times to scare me. This was a good place. I remembered Grandma Val sitting in her overstuffed chair in the corner, watching us play, giggling, as I would whisper secrets into Grand papa’s good ear. Yes, this was a good place. As I reached the bed, I saw Grandpapa, lying with his hands in his lap. He was very pale, almost blue. He looked like he was sleeping really, but I knew Grandpapa never slept during the day, “Too much to do!” he would tell us. My eyes caught Grandma Val’s in the reflection of the mirror. She beckoned me forward, around the footboard, up the side of the bed. It was then I saw the box at her feet, I looked at it curiously, but then I looked at Grandpapa. Is this what dead looks like? I thought to myself, I paused next to my Grandma Val, gazing at the man who I loved soo much.   
“Don’t be afraid, Ana.” Grandma Val whispered into my ear.   
“He looks…cold.” I observed, looking over my shoulder questioningly.  
“Yes, he is cold now. He beyond this world, Ana. He is with the angels.”  
I understood there was nothing that could be done.   
“If I say to goodbye to him, will he hear me?” I asked. Tears welled in Grandma Val’s eyes; tears she had not thought she had left to shed.  
“Oh, yes, my dear. He will hear you. He will always hear you.” She smiled softly, tucking the long strand of strawberry blonde hair around my ear.  
I leaned close and whispered, “Grandpapa,” tears filling my eyes as I spoke, “Grandpapa, it’s me…. Ana.” I took a steadying breath, “I….I’ve come to say goodbye.” My voice hitched up a bit as I continued, “I just wanted to say…that...that…no one can do scary monster growls like you can. And I will miss you very much.” I looked back at Grandma Val, who just smiled at me, as I looked at her; a tear fell onto my Grand papa’s cheek. I hear the sound and looked down at his face. I moved to wipe it away, but Grandma Val stopped me.  
“Don’t worry, Ana. He would gladly take your tears with him, if only to prevent them from falling in the future.” Grandma Val kissed my tear stained cheeks. “Ohhhh, he loved you so, so much. He loved all of you so much, but you held a special place in his heart.” Grandma Val took both of my hands in hers and walked me over to the box next to the bed. Grandma Val sat on the chair again, smiling.  
“Ana, you are an excellent writer. I, and your Grandpapa, have seen your work and think it is fantastic.” Grandma Val said very animatedly. “Did you know that my mother was a writer, a quite one too. But you, you are exceptional.” Grandma Val pointed at me in seriousness.  
“I want you to have this.” She stated as she lightly tapped the box with her foot. “It is very special to me. I never told your Grandpapa I had it.” Grandma Val whispered looking over at my Grand papa’s body to be sure he did not hear her. “You mustn’t tell anyone about it, do you understand?” I nodded yes, but I really did not understand. “When you are ready, I want you to open it up and write a story about what you find inside. Or several stories, it doesn’t matter. The point is, when you write your stories you must remember your Grandpapa, and me, and never forget that it, our family, may have never been.” There was a twinkle in Grandma Val’s eyes, as she seem remember, her eyes drifting shut as she hummed a tune I had never heard before.

 

It was late, very late in the evening. Isabel, Emma, and Zoe had all convinced their mother, Valentine, not to sleep in a bed with a corpse, even if it was their beloved father’s corpse. They had all relented in allowing the body to stay at Groby, but they drew the line there. Michael, Thomas, and Edward had all arrived with their families. Groby packed to the gills with people, yet it was oddly quiet throughout. They didn’t know that I was sitting on the stairs listen to the “grown-ups” talk.

“It’s absolutely ludricious that my father’s body has been left where he died three days ago!” Isabel shouted, waving her hand about, a lit cigarette perched in between her fingertips.  
“Calm down, Isabel. Mother might hear you.” Michael calmly pointed out as he guided Isabel to the sofa nearby. All the surviving Tietjens children were in the room, smoking, drinking.  
“Besides, the funeral is tomorrow.” Michael reminded his emotionally distraught eldest sister. Everyone else were just numb. They all knew it was coming. In fact. Most of thought it would happen soon after the stroke ten years ago, but good, ol’ Tietjens had soldiered on.   
“He seemed to be so happy, almost like he was getting better, last time I saw him.” Emma mused from her perch on the loveseat.   
“How is mother?” Zoe quietly asked. She had been late arriving and Grandma Val had retired to the upstairs bedroom, at Isabel’s insistance that Grandma Val could not sleep with a corpse.  
Isabel shrugged her shoulders, “She won’t leave his side. She thinks that….bo-body is our father.” Isabel told the group pointedly.  
“But it is our father, Isabel.” Zoe innocently reminded Isabel, who was now pacing back and forth-in front of the fireplace.  
“NO! No, it is not our father!” Shouted Isabel, her voice hitching a bit, leaning in, and looking pointedly at each of the Tietjens children present. Isabel smirked a half smile, much the man lying dead in the other room, snuffing the cigarette out in the crystal ashtray.  
“You know, as well as I know, that our father right now is in heaven, argue with God himself that his statistical calculations are wrong.” All the Tietjens laughed at the joke. Thomas, wanting to lighten the mood, stood up, his glass raised high.   
“A toast! To Father.” Thomas declared. The remaining children stood up as well, their drinks raised in salute.  
“May he win his argument with the Almighty! Perhaps the odds will be more of a favor for us mere mortals here on Earth if Father wins! Hear! Hear!” Everyone clinked glasses and drained their glasses. Standing in a circle, looking at each other, slowed they took each other’s hands. “What will we do without him?” Michael dared to whisper, “What will mother do without him?” There was no reply from anyone.

 

Valentine crept from the bedroom on the second floor, to the ground floor bedroom where Christopher’s body lay. Three days it had been. Three days without his smile, without the light touches of reassurance, without that twinkle in his eyes. 

Valentine entered the room and paused. She did not care how macabre it seemed. She would lie there with him. She would not leave him alone. Her old, frail body relaxed comfortably into right side of the bed. She glazed over at her lover, her chevalier, her soul mate, and she could almost imagine him sleeping. But she knew he was not. She sobbed softly, but sleep came rather quickly. 

Flash of white and Valentine awoke, but she was standing. She was standing by the bed, but her body was there next to Christopher. There was a strong feeling of peace and hope filling her. She had not felt so alive. She smiled. She did feel like herself, in fact, she gazed to the polished mirror and she saw herself, as she once was. When Christopher had first come back from the war. She peered at herself, silently stroking the unlined face before her, giggling like a schoolgirl. Because I am a schoolgirl, Valentine thought. She looked back at the bed she seemed to be above the bed now. Valentine watched as she saw Thomas enter the room, he called out down the hall, which echo strangely, as if Valentine was hearing it through a tunnel, “She’s in here!”  
“Oh my god, Mother! I told you it’s not proper.” Isabel marched into the room pasted Thomas. Valentine sighed as she realized this dream would end soon as they woke her, but she smiled at Isabel indignation.  
“Mother?! Mother? Wake up. Please, mother!” Isabel shouted as Thomas and the rest of the family started to arrive. There was no response. Valentine, still hovering over the scene thought this a most curious dream.   
“Mother? Thomas, call an ambulance now!” Isabel ordered as she stroked her mother’s hair. “Oh god, no. Not you too.” Isabel sobbed. Zoe, Emma, Edward, Michael crowded around Valentine’s body, making it impossible to see. Things were getting blurrier and blurrier, the sounds of the children more and more indistinct. Valentine had a strange sense of calm wash over her.   
She was suddenly outside Groby, floating high above. Warm sunshine on her face as she traveled somewhere. The light was bright, but no so bright it was not pleasant. Pleasant that is want it was, pleasant. There was nothing but light which was pulling her faster and faster. Then suddenly, Valentine appeared in a field, not unlike the one she sat with Christopher after their ride in the midst. The field Valentine had fallen in love with Christopher, and he will her. But this one was different; the midst was to her knees making her feel like she was on cloud, but with a firm surface underneath. She spun around and around in joy and happiness. She paused for a moment in her revelry, seeing a shadowy figure moving toward her. She shielded her eyes for a moment trying to discover if it where friend or foe. The shape took form slowly, crystalizing, formalizing into the shape of a person. Valentine waited a moment longer, and then slowly recognized the gait and stride of her beloved Christopher. She covered both of her hands over her mouth to keep from squealing in delight. Valentine closed her eyes and voiced the most sincere prayer.  
“If this is a dream, I beg never to be woken up.” Valentine pleaded breathlessly.  
“Granted” the strong, deep-timbered voice of Christopher announced smartly as he stopped directly in front of Valentine. Valentine opened her eyes slowly, seeing a much younger Christopher, in his military uniform, smiling softly down at her.  
Valentine threw her arms around Christopher and they kissed passionately for the briefest of moments. Breathless and joyful, their lips barely apart, a smile of pure love spreading across Christopher’s face as he held his love.  
“I am here to escort you through eternity.”


	2. The Box

It had been five years since Grandpapa Tietjens and Grandma Val’s deaths. More than enough time, to start look inside the box Grandma Val had given me. After Grandma Val passed, only a few days after Grandpapa Tietjens, it was all too much for me. I forgot about the box. It was under my bed the whole time, and when I thought about it, it made me sad and regretful that I hadn’t done when Grandma Val had asked me to do. 

I sat there staring at the box, a light coating of dust on it. My room at Groby was much the same as it had been when I can first remember it, only the furniture had gotten bigger. Everything else stayed the same, just like Groby. I was surprised the box had not been moved or thrown out in my absence at school. I stared at the box nervously.  
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” I announced a little too loudly. “Language, dear.” my Aunt Isabel called from down the hall. I cringed at the thought of her giving me another lecture about proper behavior of a young lady. I looked at the door and decided to shut and lock it for fear of being discovered. Just a few minutes. That’s all this will take, then I will know what I need to do, I thought to myself.  
“Here we go Grandma Val. Moment of Truth.” I took a deep breath and took the lid off, my eyes squeezed shut. I waited for a moment, then I cautiously looked down into the box.  
“Books?” I questioned aloud. I knew the box was a little heavy, but I never thought there would be books inside. I picked on up, right from the middle. I unwrapped the cord wrapped around the outside. The pages fanned out, almost of their own accord, and I recognized my Grandma Val’s handwriting immediately. I briefly glanced at the page, looking at the date: March 9, 1923.  
“Journals.” I whispered. My grandma had given me her personal journals! Moreover, she wanted me to write about them. About her and my beloved Grandpapa. And my family, that “may have never been”, as I remembered what my Grandma Val had told me the day before she died.  
“Oh this is terrible. How could I have waited so long to look inside?” I whined softly. All this time it was right here, under my bed waiting for me just to get the gumption to open a silly box.

I placed the journal on the floor next to me. How many were there? There were three journals by three journals on top, that’s nine, I thought. I dug down into the box, three layers…..that’s twenty-seven journals! Each had to be 200 pages! My eyes widened in shock and joy.  
“This is fantastic!” Shouted a bit too loudly. Suddenly the doorknob twisted back and forth, my Aunt’s voice coming from the other side.  
“Ana? Why is the door locked?”  
“I was just changing and I didn’t want the twins to coming running in….” I shouted back as I stuffed the remaining journals back into the box, shoving it under the bed.  
“Are your smoking pot in there?” my aunt asked incredulously.  
“Yes! YES! I’m smoking pot in here, Aunt Isabel.” I shouted back, flabbergasted she would ask such a question. Grandpapa would roll in his grave if he knew I was doing drugs.  
“He’d haunt me for such then.” I whispered to myself as I adjusted my clothes and unlocked the door. I smiled sweetly at my Aunt Isabel, who marched in the room sniffing, literally, around. The dust from the box lid floated in the air and could be seen with light shining through the window.  
“My god, it is musty in here. I'll have Clara come up and dust a bit more thoroughly.” My aunt paused looking at me, “My god, you look like her more and more every day.”  
“Who?” I queried.  
“Your Grandma Val, of course. It’s so obvious. You’ve seen pictures when she was young.” I looked into mirror hanging over the vanity table I never used.  
“Thank God you really weren’t smoking pot….your Grandpapa would be rolling in his grave if you did drugs.” Aunt Isabel proclaimed sweetly, kissing my forehead.  
“Perhaps I will do just that. Just so Grandpapa will visit me from beyond the grave to admonish me for my unladylike behavior.” I announced, changing my voice into my best likeness of Uncle Thomas, who I had been told sounded very much Grandpapa did when before he had his stroke. My aunt’s expression softened, understanding my longing for my beloved Grandpapa.  
“I’ve already tried, my dear.”  
My mouth fell open in shock and admiration as my prim and proper Aunt Isabel gracefully walked away.

Many hours later, I had all the journals laid out around me in my room. No need to lock the door, everyone was abed. I had to get them in time order so they made sense. I decided I would group them into five-year periods. Looked as if two to two-in-a-half journals would cover five years. 

I found the very first journal. It was like opening buried treasure. As I opened the journal carefully, I found my Grandma Val’s handwriting. It was smooth and beautiful, probably much like herself. I looked at the date, November 1918.  
Wow, my mouth formed the word but no sound came out. It was strange; this journal did not given the actual day, like the few others I had looked through. Must have been something Grandma Val started to do later on. There was one word at the top of the first page, in big bold script. LOVE. I smiled as I read that word, and gently ran my fingertips over the written word. Grandma Val must have been in love, with Grandpapa, when she wrote these words. The thought brought a sigh to my lips.

As I carefully bent the binding back something fell out. Oh, no! I thought, I’ve gone and damaged it! But no, it wasn’t a page from the journal, it was picture. A lovely picture, of Grandma Val and Grandpapa Tietjens with a group of soldiers. I squinted at the black and white tintype, trying to make out every detail, the foreground, the background, the faces. They were in Hyde Park, in London. A rowdy bunch it seemed, judging by Grandpapa expression. Grandpapa has his uniform on, I thought, doesn’t he look dashing. And Grandma Val, she looked so beautiful. I noticed Grandma Val’s hand was looped unto Grandpapa bent forearm, his gloved hand covering hers. This must have been just after the war ended, and he had come back to Grandma Val. 

I delicately shook journal to see if there was anything else wedged inside. Another photo came dislodged. This photo encapsulated everything my Grandma and Grandpapa must have felt for one another. It was just a headshot, from the shoulder’s up, of the two them, my grandpapa looking serenely and lovingly down at grandma. The look of sheer joy and love radiating from my grandma must have blinded the poor camera operator. Grandpapa was in a tuxedo, I’d seen it once in his wardrobe when I was very little. And grandma had her hair pinned up and beautiful flower on the side. You couldn’t make out a lot of detail in her dress, but it didn’t matter. Ohhhh, how I hoped grandma would describe this night to me. I also decided I would not take out things Grandma placed in the journals without knowing where to put them back. 

Out of curiosity, I lifted the heavy picture over to see if anything was written on the back. I remembered Grandma saying Grandpapa always like to put dates on the back of the pictures to be able remember them better. 

Sure enough, there was a date on back, April 17, 1919. There were four other words scrawled across the back as well, which raised my eyebrows in surprise, “A gentleman and his mistress.”  
Mistress? My only hope was to read my Grandma Val’s journals and hoped they would tell me as story. And as I read, boy did the journals tell me! Even for a modern 20th century young woman, my cheeks blushed at the way my grandma described…..things. It was almost too much, but I decided I would read it as objectively as possible, but this shit was going to awesome in the stories I would write about them and for them. Just as Grandma Val wanted me too.


	3. Perfectly Imperfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 12, 1918

It was morning. The soft rays of the sun streaming through the tall floor to ceiling windows. In the midst of the yesterday’s evening festivities, the flat’s only two remaining occupants had failed to pull closed the heavier outer curtains on the windows. The outer curtains not only staved off all the sun, but also the night’s chilly temperatures. Funny, Valentine thought as she lay quietly in bed, I don’t feel a bit cold. A small smile crept across her face, as she opened her eyes to the first day of her new life.  
She could feel him next to her. That is why she did not feel the cold. His long, strong body draped carelessly, and possessively, around her own soft, petite one. The bed they shared was narrow, some would say too narrow, for even one grown man Christopher’s size. He even had lamented yesterday, late into the evening. Valentine’s mind drifted to that moment, her eyes drifting shut as she remembered…  
The last bottle of hooch had been drunk, and the ladies seemed anxious to have their long-awaited reunions with their men. The men themselves were getting looser with their comments around the ladies. Christopher tried to calm them with solid, banal talk of life after the Army. Somehow, one of them always brought it back to something most inappropriate. Valentine giggled a bit a Christopher’s reactions to his men’s comments, trying not being too shocked. However, one pair at a time, each of them left. Happy as gay birds, Christopher thought, as Captain Bill finally was escorted out, a lovely woman under each arm.  
“Evening Tietjens! Take care of that one,” Captain Bill unsteadily pointed in Valentine’s direction. Valentine was poised behind the door, her small blond head peering sweetly from behind, laughing at Captain Bill’s attempts at gallantry. Christopher was not amused at his former CO’s antics towards Miss Wannop as he stood in the doorway next to Valentine. “Or else, I may have to…”  
“Evening Captain Williams!” Christopher shouted to his old friend and promptly shut the door. Christopher stood facing Valentine, who had put both hands over her mouth to keep from either laughing or being shocked by the good Captain. They both could still her Captain Bill’s jovial laughter through door. A smile crept across Christopher’s face, his hand still gripping the doorknob.  
“Well, that, will be quite enough of that.” Christopher let go of the doorknob. They were alone. In an empty flat, no on one around to….to…to what? Stop them? Valentine’s soft face gazed up at him with such love and caring, it was almost too much. Christopher tucked his chin down to his chest, scratching the back of his head. It was a nervous gesture, Valentine knew. She had seen him do it a few times in her presence. He was deciding what to do next. Valentine decided for him, she turn as strode towards the formal living area, where the party had just ended. Valentine moved quickly to pick up the drinking glasses and plates. Christopher taking her lead did the same.  
“They were wonderful, Christopher.” Valentine stated softly as busily moved about. “You are so lucky to have had them with you, through all that you have endured.”  
“Am I? If I was luckier, perhaps a better officer, I would have kept more of them alive.” Christopher commented sourly, taking a sip from the scotch glass in his hand. Realizing the callousness of his response, his eyes softened as he turned to Valentine, “But you are right. I am lucky to have them, ol’ bastards.” Christopher chuckled. Valentine moved forward to Christopher by the fireplace, her shoes crunching on the shards of glass on the floor. Hearing the sound, Christopher looked down.  
“We must clear this mess up before….” He glanced up at Valentine who stood before him. How many times had he dreamt of taking her in his arms, loving her, showing her the ways of love, making love to her body, her soul? Valentine paused before him, breathless, a pleasant blush upon her soft face.  
“Let me…um..get a…um a…something to clean up….the glass.” Christopher stumbled through his arousal to Valentine blatant show of encouragement to him. He excited the room, leaving Valentine alone.  
How I want him to take me in his arms and kiss me, Valentine thought as she gazed upon the man who she thought would never be hers, ever. An unrequited love. How she longed for him to fill her body with joy, to give herself to Christopher. Yet he had left her standing there, by the fire. She had read the book Married Love by Dr. Mary Stopes. Dr. Stopes had commented on some men’s inability to initiate sex, especially in times of stress. However, once begun, the release men achieve afterward is very helpful in reducing stress, Valentine thought, remembering passages in the book. Was Christopher stressed about something? Valentine thought to herself. Well of course he is you twit. He’s only just left his entire life, including his son, to be with you, and oh, by the by, he’s just come back from a WAR! A ghastly war! Valentine slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead in frustration, not realizing that Christopher had returned from the back room with a broom and dustpan.  
“Are you alright?” Christopher asked in the most deadpan voice she had ever heard. He truly must think I am crazy, Valentine thought. Valentine nodded eagerly, “Yes! I’m fine, I just thought I saw…felt a bug.”  
“A bug, you say? Huh.” Christopher bent down and swiftly swept up the shards and chucks of glass and crystal on the floor.  
He returned from the back room, noticing Valentine sitting on the horrifying campstool. His gaze was drawn to the camp bed he had brought out to sleep in, nervously scratching the back of his head, considering it. No place to take an angel’s virtue, Christopher thought. Perhaps the floor? No, no, no. Not like some common…..the word whore rose and fell in his mind. No, never Miss Wannop. How he wished…she must have read his thoughts, for Valentine beckoned me to her.  
“Come. Sit next to me so can talk.” Valentine spoke in measured tones. Perhaps tonight was not going to be the night we finally declare our love. She had waited so long, she could wait some more. When Christopher was ready….  
“I will have to purchase more glasses after tonight.” Christopher stated blandly.  
“Yes, they were quite a rowdy bunch. Although I did love our walk in Hyde Park. Was it not fun?” Valentine answered peering around Christopher’s face to bring her into his line of sight. Christopher reached across and stroked her cheek softly, nodding his agreement that it was fun. Valentine reached up and gently stroked the wrist still perched on her soft cheek. “What is it, my dear?” Valentine’s soft eyes pleading with Christopher. Tears filled Christopher’s eyes, pooling, then one by one drifted down his face as he sobbed. Valentine in concern, and love, and joy, walked to Christopher and wrapped her arms around his head and shoulders, pulling to her bosom, stroking his head and back as he sobbed softly.  
“My dear. My sweet Christopher. What…what is it? You are alive. It’s all right. It’s over. We are here. Together.” Valentine whispered to him as she slowly lowered herself to her knees. She lifted Christopher’s head slightly so she could see his eyes. “What is it? Tell me, please.”  
Christopher swallowed, gathering himself, seeing the strength in his Valentine’s eyes. “Such strength in your eyes. A man could never lose his faith looking into those eyes.” Christopher whispered as his fingers slowly traced the contours of Valentine’s face as he spoke. “I do not deserved you. I am not worthy of you.” Christopher spoke with passion; however, his thumb paused at her lower lip.  
“But you..” Valentine started to say, but Christopher’s finger and soft voice shushed her rebuttal. “I do not even have proper bed to take that which is most precious, most beautiful a woman can give any man, which I know you long to give me this night.” There he said it, Christopher thought. She should kept her virginity for someone who can give her more. Valentine still knelt like a beautiful angel between Christopher’s knees. Her eyes welling with watery tears as she glazed upon the man she loved above all else, her very life if need be. Christopher leaned back, unbuttoning his uniform coat absently. Valentine decided to ask the one question Dr. Stopes stated was a direct and uncomplicated question for men to answer. Valentine rose upon her full height while on her knees, her tears threatening to breach, but she controlled them. Her hands rested lightly on each of Christopher’s knees. Christopher watched her slowly move, he thought he had succeeded, she would leave and he would be in anguish.  
“Do you not want me? Do you not find me…..pleasing?” Valentine innocently asked as she reached up and unpinned her hair, letting the waves of blonde fall around her face and shoulders. Christopher realize he had lost. He sat up slowly facing Valentine; he noticed her lower lip trembled. Was it in fear or anticipation, Christopher thought as he leaned closer? He took her face into his hands, irreverently gazing at the face of his future. Valentine’s eyes drifted shut the tears within unhinged from their moorings and drifting down her face. Christopher caught each of tear with small kiss and pulled back. Valentine opened her eyes to watch Christopher speak.  
“I will gladly catch your tears for eternity, if only to prevent them from falling in the future.” Christopher smiled a genuine, happy smile toward Valentine. Valentine smiled widely back at him, wrapping her hands around his wrists as he continued to frame her face with his hands.  
“Kiss me, Christopher.” And he did kiss her. At first a light feathering of lips against lips, then a sweet press, then more pressure, and then they could longer stand on pretense. Christopher wrapped his arms around her back, bringing close against hi, pressing his body to hers. The strength and depth of emotion radiating from her soul was almost too much. Finally, Christopher broke the kiss, his hands shaking against Valentine’s back. Valentine’s arms where pressed flat against Christopher’s uniform shirt, her breath coming in little pants.  
“Kiss me again.” Valentine asked again.  
“No. I fear I would take right here on the floor.” Christopher chuckled softly, panting as well, toying with her hair a bit. “We shall do this the right and proper way.” Christopher spoke softly, pressing light kisses on her face, neck, and wrists. “You are an innocent, my love. I shall not introduce you to the ways of lovemaking by a rough tumble.” Christopher remarked, continuing his sensory assault on Valentine.  
“I’m not that innocent.” Valentine whispered to Christopher, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair. Christopher smiled against Valentine’s neck at his lovely, sweet Valentine, “My dear, no amount of reading or books can prepare anyone, man or woman, for their first time making love.” Christopher knew Valentine was a progressive woman, so he was sure she had read a few things, heard a few things, knew a few things. Nevertheless, he wanted this to perfect for her.  
He paused in his kissing, and looked directly into Valentine’s eyes. “Are you sure about this? About tonight? We can wait if you want to….” Christopher scanned to the infernal camp bed. “I want this to be as….as beautiful as it is in your mind, waiting all these years.” Christopher spoke earnestly, a lump forming in his throat. Valentine smiled and leaned forward, kissing him this time so sweetly, a soft moan escaped Christopher in response.  
Valentine stood gracefully, gently pulling Christopher to stand up as well. He was such a tall, big man. Valentine backed up a few steps, and paused, still holding Christopher’s hand. “What do we do now?” She asked shyly, but her eyes never left Christopher.  
“Ahh…I should…take off this damn uniform. I know how it upsets you. Beside it’s a pain to get on and off frankly.” Christopher announced, chuckling softly. “It does upset me. But you always looked rather dashing in it.” Valentine commented as she stroked the wool sleeve of his officer’s coat.  
“What should I do?” Valentine queried. Christopher realized he was not sure; he stood there a loss of words, a rare feat. Valentine smiled at his indecision. “I have something. Would you like to see it?”  
“YYyes. Yes.” Christopher spoke breathlessly, blinking rabidly in surprise. Valentine had returned home for a bit prior to the party and packed a few things. One of those things was a lovely sleeveless nightgown she had found a few years ago. It had beautiful lace and silk pointes on it, and it was wondrous shade of cream. Valentine turned around, Christopher’s hands behind his back. She held the item to her chest. “Close your eyes.” She whispered. Christopher cocked a half smile and obliged her. “No peeking.” She warned Christopher. Valentine unfurled the nightgown, holding it out in front of her at the shoulders at arm’s length. “Alright. You can open your eyes now.” Christopher’s breath caught at the most beautiful thing he had seen in so many years. It was so powerful; Christopher placed a hand over his mouth as he gazed at his Valentine and her virginal innocence. “Do you like it?” Valentine asked expectantly. Christopher gathered himself, and strode softly towards Valentine. He licked his dry lips as he lower the nightgown to hold it closer to Valentine’s soft body. He lightly touched the waist of the fabric gathering Valentine’s waist at the same time. He watched as the light fabric stretched across her waist. It was almost too much for him. Christopher let go of her waist and took her by the shoulders, kissing her passionately. After a few moments, Christopher let go. “So you like it.” Valentine smiled brightly.  
“I shall like it more as remove it from your body.” Christopher whispered, his eyebrow arching rakishly. A bright flush rose to Valentine’s face, she had never heard such talk. Perhaps this what Dr. Stopes called “pillow talk?” Christopher started exit the room; presumably, to remove this “infernal uniform” Valentine thought she heard him say as he walked up the stairs.  
A half an hour later, Valentine had brushed her hair and put on a bit of lip stain, nothing heavy. She decided they would make the best of the camp bed. She saw some linens in the down stairs closet for the non-existent bed in the house. A cruel joke played on Christopher by his wretched wife, no doubt. No, she was not going to think about her. This was their night. She spread out several soft sheets and blankets on the bed; a couple of pillows. Valentine smiled at her handy work. Then she waited. Valentine heard Christopher’s steps ascend down the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited to see him. She had no idea what to expect. She stood slowly walking toward the stairs and her beloved. His breath caught in a second time, her hand coming to her throat as Christopher entered. He had a dark green silk dressing gown on, and it appeared nothing else. The dressing gown was wrapped tightly around his lean, tall body, but Valentine could see the chest and his bare legs. Perhaps he still had his knickers on, perhaps not. Valentine’s imagination went wild.  
Christopher was ready less than ten minutes to return to his Valentine. Nevertheless, he knew ladies typically took longer to prepare themselves for bed. He had watch Sylvia 100 of times take over an hour to come to bed. No, No, Christopher admonished himself I will not think about her. This was their night, his and Valentine’s. It had been a half hour, enough time for most women. He walked a little more heavily as a way warning her. He paused at the third step, not hearing anything. He started again, paused. Then decided to move forward. This was it.  
The moment he entered the room and saw this vision of loveliness, he almost fell to his knees. He watch her reaction to him, she watched his reaction to her. The silence crackled with electricity. Valentine moved closer first, but Christopher moved as well. The reached each other not far from the once modest camp bed, now looking like a sultan’s lounge. Christopher noticed what she had done, and smiled brightly at Valentine.  
“Miss Wannop, on this night and every night after, I would have you know I forsake all others expect for you. With these words, I pledge this for eternity. With my body, on this night, I will give you my soul for you to hold for as long as the Almighty allows. With all my love, on this night, I will give you my heart for you to make whole once again.” Christopher spoke softly and earnestly. Kissing me deeply at the end. Valentine threw her arms around Christopher, holding him close as she cried with joy.  
“Thank you, my sweet Christopher. But I have only these few words I have longed to say to you. You are my heart, my Chevalier. I have loved you from the moment we sat in the field, after our ride in the midst. And I will always love you, Christopher Tietjens.” Christopher smiled at her simple words. “And I love you, Valentine Wannop.”  
Time seemed to blur. Christopher brought Valentine to the heights of pleasure. He was not wearing his knickers under his dressing gown, Valentine soon discovered. But it was meant to reassure her not to be frightened. In the soft glow of the fireplace, Valentine and Christopher explored each other’s bodies. Valentine was a bold virgin, unafraid. Perhaps women having more equality is not such a bad thing, he thought as Valentine explored his wounded and damaged body. Her small hands making him feel like a whole man again.  
Christopher was gentle and moved slowly with Valentine. He felt her climax twice as he had explored her body with gentle kisses, licks and nips. Valentine was passionate and loving. It made Christopher exultant to know no man had been with Valentine. As strange sense of possession came over him as he stroked her lovely, taut thigh. Christopher longed claimed her. He waited for the right moment to position himself. She could feel her tense for a moment, but soothed her tension away with soft caresses and sweet words.  
“Shhh, my dove.” Christopher cooed softly into Valentine’s ear. Christopher moved slowly forward, Valentine felt a new pleasurable, satisfying sensation start, when suddenly Christopher moved himself out of her again, causing and even more pleasurable feeling to radiate through her body.  
“Oh, oh, my….my Christopher.” Valentine moaned softly as he re-entered her more deeply, then back out again. The delightful sensations were torture to Christopher, all he wanted to do was drive as deep as he could into Valentine, purging himself deep inside the angel now lying in his arms. Sweated beaded on his body in attempt to control himself. He was almost there; it was almost time to claim his Valentine.  
Valentine could see the strain, however pleasurable, on Christopher’s face. She it was time to allow him to claim her, and for her to claim him. She knew what was coming, some pain and blood, but Christopher had been write when he state no amount of reading about this experience would prepare anyone. Valentine stoked Christopher’s face, his manhood pulsing with desire inside her; she knew he could wait no longer. She seem to communicate her readiness in her eyes to Christopher, who intertwined each of their hands, one above Valentine’s head, one next to it. They kissed for few moments, Christopher’s manhood moving slowly back and forth. The feeling was intense, but not as intense as when Christopher breached Valentine’s maidenhead. A small gasp was all Valentine could must, so many emotions were swirling around. Christopher paused for a moment, waiting. He felt Valentine’s lips sensually stroke his jaw. Christopher knew she was okay. He moved slowly back and forth, the pressure, the pleasure building in a semi-silence, their combined gasps of pleasure, the creaking of the camp bed, Christopher’s foot hitting the floor trying gain purchase as he thrust. He tried to tell himself to be gentle, but he felt like he was killing her. But heard no screams of pain, just soft moans and pants, he looked at Valentine, her eyes closed, moving rhythmically with his thrusting, her mouth silently begging him with the word, “more, more.” Then he felt it. The rush of sensation, the flow of pressure, the release of his love.  
There were no words needing to be said. Just contentment, just hope, just love. The fell asleep on the narrow camp bed, never realizing the outer curtains had never been drawn closed.


	4. The Rays of the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 12, 1918

In the bright rays of sunlight, the reality, and finality, of your actions can be overwhelming. Christopher gazed at his beautiful Valentine sleeping next to him on the camp bed. He smiled silently as he his hand absently stroked the rough wood of the camp bed. Last night had been perfect, as if the camp bed had magically transformed into a place fit for a king, not a lowly battalion commander. Christopher could feel his body respond to Valentine sweet body pressed against his in the narrow bed. No, I will not take her again. Though I know she would accommodate me, Christopher thought ruefully as he carefully stroked the soft strands of hair away from Valentine neck and shoulder. Christopher silently prayed he had not been too harsh with her soft, inexperienced body last night. He would hate to see troubling marks upon her pale skin, although he knew some might be inevitable.   
Christopher rolled over slightly, looking at the sun pouring in from the open curtains. Bugger off, he thought, they had forgotten to draw the heavy outer curtains last night. No wonder the room had a slight chill to it. He looked to the fireplace, only the heavy, glowing embers of the night’s fire remained. Christopher decided to exit their love nest. He move gently backward away from his beloved’s warm body. Valentine moaned tenderly as he moved away, “Don’t go,” he thought he heard her mumble sleepily. Christopher gently stroked her bare shoulder, placing a soft kiss there as well, reassuring her. “I won’t be long,” Christopher whispered. This seemed to placate his sleepy lover, as he reached for his dark green dressing gown.  
He went to the bottom floor lavatory first needing to relieved himself. But it was then he saw the blood upon himself and his body. Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. His concern for Valentine grew a bit. Christopher scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. He was about to pull the chain for the water closet, when he heard water running in the upstairs bath. Apparently, he was to be spared the evidence of his debauchery upon the angel who came to him last night.   
Christopher returned to the formal living area and saw that in fact Valentine had left the camp bed. Clearly, she is upstairs, bathing. Christopher added more logs to the fire, building it nicely. The heat and light filling the room with beauty. Christopher decided the rays of sunlight pouring in through the curtain were too harsh for the magical place they had created. He pulled the heavy curtains together, blocking out the world. “Plenty of time for reality.” Christopher whispered as he stared at the heavy jacquard print curtains. Christopher looked around the flat, so sparely furnished. Valentine did not see me to mind. However, he resolved to go to Mark’s and take him up on his offer of financial assistance. He could call in his “loan” from Macmaster, but he decided against it, since he had advised Macmaster he did not loan money to friends or family. As he thought for a moment, he glanced at the camp bed. If only so he could make love to Valentine in a proper bed, Christopher mused as he began straightening up the love nest that had served perfectly for them last night. He began to pull the blankets and pillows together to replace them in the linen closet. As he pulled layer upon layer away, soft memories of their lovemaking came back to Christopher. Oh, how glorious it was, Christopher smiled widely. Then he saw it, the blood upon the sheet. Christopher was not an idiot he knew the reason why…Valentine had waited for him…had given him her virtue with all the trust of an innocent. Moreover, he had taken her gift. Had he been too rough? He was unsure how much blood was normal in these situations. There didn’t seemed to be that much, but it was smeared about on the sheet. Christopher swallowed nervously. What if most of it was still on sweet Valentine? What if that is why she was upstairs, alone, quietly bathing his wickedness from her body? Christopher resolved he would not abandon her if she was truly suffering, which he was sure she was after….last night. Christopher pulled the bloodied, offending sheets from his camp bed in frustration, throwing them aside, and ascending briskly up the stairs. He was no coward, he would face his reality.  
Christopher walked into the side room adjoining the bath room. He paused, unsure if she would welcome him in. He leaned awkwardly around, peering through the doorway, which Valentine had left open. Odd, Christopher thought, for someone reeling in the fact she has just been corrupted. He could see Valentine’s head leaning back against the tub; she had pinned her hair up to avoid it getting wet. Her arms lay along the rim, steam rising around her. She was silent.  
Christopher moved cautiously forward, his dark green dressing gown swaying softly. He took one step then two, and then a floorboard creaked out harshly. Christopher winced at the sound, and worried he would be discovered.  
Valentine opened her eyes slowly. A small smile creeping across her face. She knew he was there. She had heard him walking, however stealthily, up the stairs, down the hall. He thought he was so clever. She wondered why he felt the need to sneak up on her. Then she thought about Dr. Stopes commentary that some men treating women too roughly. In the height of passion, some men, Dr. Stopes wrote, lose much of their self-control and at times can become inherently violent. Valentine had read these words repeatedly, worrying her. Could Christopher become violent, lose all self-control? Happily, Valentine had discovered that losing self-control was a perfectly good thing, Valentine smiled at the memory, and Christopher show no signs of anything remotely violent. Nevertheless, the night’s activities had left her inexperienced body in quite a state. Hence, when Valentine finally awoke fully, knowing that Christopher was in the downstairs lavatory, she decided to get refreshed and make sure she was presentable.  
In the light of the bath room, Valentine examined her body for anything she needed to be concerned about. She looked fine, Valentine thought, apart from a bit of blood on her inner thighs and back. As she entered the bath, she noticed some very light bruising on her inner thighs, and a soreness in her hips. Both not uncommon things, Valentine thought as she smiled inwardly and slyly at the memories of the evening. How can I face him now? Will I always think about these unadulterated memories creeping into my mind whenever I see him, think of him, and touch him? Valentine thought, what a wonderful problem to have.   
Christopher froze at the sound of the floorboard creaking, and waited. Then, like an ocean siren, Christopher watched as Valentine’s head lifted slowly, and her whole body turning in the tub, her angelic face tilted slightly around the plumbing pipes, peering at him with a sweetness he had never seen before. Valentine braced her arms, one on top of the other, on the side of the tub, leaning her chin on the stack of limbs. Christopher stood up straighter, realizing he’d been caught.  
“Good Morning,” Valentine spoke softly from her bath. Christopher looked at Valentine, then away. Oh God, how do I face her now? Will I always think be faced with my recklessness whenever I see her, think of her, touch her? Christopher thought what a dastardly problem to have. His confusion and body language concerned Valentine. “My dear, what it is?” Valentine queried her clearly agitated lover.   
“Are you alright?” Christopher asked a bit breathlessly. Valentine brow furrowed in confusion, but then smiled happily over the rim of the tub.  
“I am glorious.” Valentine announced dreamily. “Are you alright?” Valentine countered, as she noticed a bit of the confusion leave Christopher’s body as he stood there, less than 10 feet away. Oh, how she wished he would join her in her bath. It was certainly big enough, Valentine thought as she waited for Christopher to reply.   
“I am….relieved.” Christopher answered. Glancing over to his sweet Valentine, he moved closer, just to the doorway, still a bit of distance and privacy for her. He was about to speak again, but Valentine spoke first.  
“Come closer.” Valentine whispered more seductively than she thought she could have imagined, her hand reaching out to Christopher. Christopher walked cautiously towards the tub.  
“Closer.” Valentine whispered again, her hand pleading to him.  
“I…I don’t want to disturb your...your bath.” Christopher announced as he stop just short of her hand. Christopher could see her lovely body in the water; he could feel his body respond to the sight. Christopher moved closer, taking his lover’s hand in his, he decided to sit on short small wooden stool next to the tub. Valentine sighed in relief that Christopher had not rejected her. Christopher kissed Valentine’s moist, soft hand as he held it. He gently moved her hand and placed it flat over his heart, upon his chest. Valentine giggled softly at the brush of fine soft hair tickling her palm.  
“Are you truly alright?” Christopher asked solemnly.  
Valentine rose up a bit at his tone, concern altering her face with dramatic results. “Why such sudden concern if I am alright? I told you, I am glorious.” Valentine looked intently into Christopher’s eyes trying to gauge his response as she smiled softly.  
“I just…just know that last night I may have gotten a bit rough… with you.” Christopher swallowed, regrouping his thoughts. Valentine waited patiently so he could finish. “I saw…saw some blood on the sheets, and on me….I just was concerned you were putting on a brave face for me.” Christopher paused, taking a deep breath, looking directly into Valentine’s eyes. “I promise you, I will never hurt ever again, not like that. It’s just…just….been…such a long time since…”Christopher admitted, but Valentine placed a finger over his lips, shushing him softly.  
“Shhhh…oh my dear,” Valentine smiled, which Christopher, in turn, smiled back at him. “What we did last night was beautiful and extraordinary.” Valentine paused, “You didn’t hurt me, I promise you,” Valentine stated passionately and a little saucily. Christopher nodded in acceptance, kissing her hand, then leaning over and capturing her lips softly. He reclaimed the stool by the tub, a peacefully smile upon his handsome face.  
“Promise me you will always tell me the truth…about everything.” Christopher asked softly. Valentine smiled in return, “I promise.” Valentine kissed her fingertips and placed it over her heart, sealing her vow to him.   
A sigh of relief seemed to escape from Christopher’s entire body. He clapped both his knees with his hands as he rose from the stool, a bit unsteadily. Valentine giggled a bit, since as he rose up it created a large gap, allowing her full view of his legs and manhood. Christopher didn’t seem to notice, Valentine didn’t say anything.  
“Right. Well, finish your bath. I will bath after you have finished. We have much to do today.” Christopher announced as he started to exit the bath room. Valentine decided she would try something cheeky to gauge Christopher’s response.   
“Perhaps you should join me here to expedite our departure?” Valentine smiled, her eyebrow arching up wickedly.  
“My dear if I were to join you in your bath the scenario I imagine would occur during and after would not only require another bath for each of us, thereby delaying our departure significantly, but I would also venture to say I doubt greatly if we were to departure at all.” Christopher bowed slightly, tipping an imaginary hat to Valentine. Valentine suppressed her laughter as he rounded the corner out of the bath room. She turned to resume her bath, when she hear Christopher return to the doorway of the bath room again, she turned expectantly  
“Additionally, given the water level in your bath currently, I dare say there would be an impressive overflow of water if I were to join you, which would create such disarray that the neighbors may be inconvenienced.” Christopher smiled widely and winked at Valentine who could no longer suppress her amusement at her attempt to entice him into her bath water, she burst out laughing. Valentine could hear Christopher’s low-timbered laughter as he energetically descended the stairs to the first floor of the flat.  
Two hours later, they both stepped out of their empty Gray’s Inn flat. Valentine was dressed in the same high-waisted navy skirt as yesterday, but her top was different. It was quite old-fashioned in its design, but complimented Valentine’s shape rather nicely. The one thing Christopher did know, is Valentine did not where a corset, which was fine with him. They were ungodly contraptions that required amazing effort to put on and off.   
Christopher decided to wear his gray lounge suit for their morning errands. It was chilly out, less than 8 degrees Celsius, and there was a brisk wind. Valentine decided to forgo a hat, but Christopher helped her into her sturdy, practical dark purple wool coat. Nothing fancy or overly fashionable about it. Christopher mentally noted he would ensure Valentine receive a proper allowance each month for her clothing, hair pins, hats, whatever she wanted. She deserved beautiful things.   
Christopher was already wearing his black full-length coat and bowler hat. As they descended the building’s interior stairs to the exterior door, Christopher paused with this gloved hand on the door handle. Valentine, seeing his hesitancy, placed her hand over his, turning the latch slowly. Christopher nodded his thanks, holding the door open for her, as she exited. Valentine smiled softly, her breath a bit visible in the cold air. Christopher joined her, adjusting his gloves a bit. They looked at each other for reassurance. This was it, no more parades, no more waiting, no more…   
“Where to first?” Valentine asked curiously.  
“Not quite sure. Lunch?” Christopher responded.  
“Oh yes, I am famished.” Valentine answered innocently.  
“Yes, I suppose you are.” Christopher smiled at his sweet, innocent Valentine. There was a slight twinkle in Valentine’s eye at Christopher’s response, and Valentine decided to go on the offensive. Leaning in, “Are you not hungry as well?” she whispered softly.  
Christopher’s eyebrow rose in response to this new, very sexy Valentine he briefly witnessed on the steps of their building’s flat. “Ravenous.” Christopher announced in a low-timbered, almost panther-like tone. Valentine giggled softly and Christopher smiled widely.   
Christopher offered Valentine his arm, which she gladly slipped her hand to rest upon, as they entered the stream of life walking back and forth on the sidewalk. Valentine was so happy as they walked together, she could not help herself as she leaned her head on Christopher’s arm and sighed softly. In response, Christopher leaned over, and brushed a soft kiss to the top of her head.  
“Look at them! Just look at the display they are putting on down there!” Lady Edith Macmaster shouted as her husband stood back and watched his friend Tietjens and Miss Wannop, the curtain on the window pulled back to see the street below. Macmaster wrapped his hands around his wife’s waist, trying to sooth her.  
“Guggums. He’s just returned from war.” Macmaster noted softly to his agitated wife.  
“But she hasn’t! She knows the rules. It’s unfitting and obscene for polite society to be subjected to this.” Edith waved her free hand towards the couple still standing on the front stoop the building across the street from them. “However, our future seems to be in the hands of that harlot.”   
“Guggams?!” Macmaster admonished softly in response to his wife’s use of the word harlot to describe Miss Wannop, which he knew nothing could be farther from the truth.  
At the word harlot, it almost seemed as if Christopher had heard Edith, and as turned around to glance up at the window. Edith let the curtain fall back, fearful.  
“Perhaps you should not be so harsh on the girl. She loves him, and he loves her.” Macmaster reminded his once caring and loving wife, who now at times she could be a cruel and unsympathetic.  
“Still, I need to figure out a way to get back in her good graces.” Edith pondered.   
“What did you do to her that makes you so concerned?” Macmaster asked cautiously. Edith thought of the moment when she accused Valentine of having Christopher’s illegitimate child, which Edith knew wasn’t true, but it was being spoken everywhere, by everyone….so in a tantrum when she was losing yet another argument with Valentine she had said the worst thing possible.  
“Perhaps we should just be their friends, like before.” Macmaster offered honestly seeing his wife’s worried face, and knowing that she must have done something awful in poor, lovely Valentine.  
“What?! And have our standing in society jeopardized? Most, if not all, the homes in London will be closed to Tietjens now. You would want that for us?” Edith asked incredulously. “No. I will figure this out.” With that Macmaster, watched as his wife stormed out of the room. Macmaster moved to the window, pulling the curtain back once more, seeing the couple now walking away from Gray’s Inn, arm-in-arm. He watched as Valentine leaned against Christopher, and in response Christopher kiss the top of her head, chuckling as he watched the steadfast Tietjens he knew find happiness.  
“Good show, ol’ boy. Good show.”


	5. A Damn Fine Brew

Valentine and Christopher walked briskly southward down Gray’s Inn Road to High Holborn Street. Christopher suggested they could lunch at The Melton Mowbray, which he was told had delicious pork pies. Sylvia wouldn’t have been caught dead in this place, Christopher thought ruefully. But Miss Wannop smiled cheerfully and clearly was excited to try the establishment’s offerings. Sylvia would have demanded a coach take them instead of walking, she would have also demanded to go to the club, so she could catch up on all the latest gossip.   
“Oh bugger it,” Christopher grumbled under his breath. Valentine heard him, but decided not to say anything. They reached the Melton Mowbray, the wind picking up, as they got closer to the Thames River. With one hand on his hat brim, another holding the door, he ushered Valentine into the clearly British establishment. Dark wood paneling, watery single-panel glass windows wrapped around the front and side, a large hearth fireplace in the corner. All the windows made the place quite cheerful.   
Christopher escorted Valentine to a small table and chairs by the window. Soon enough each of them had a warm pork pie and a pint of beer for Christopher and a glass of white wine for Valentine. Each sat in silence as they eat, clearly hungry after not eaten in almost half a day. Christopher, his napkin tucked in his collar, paused to drink his beer. Prior to the war, we would never have partaken in the foul brew. Nevertheless, he found he enjoyed it occasionally with a pie or two, obviously his interactions with his men were rubbing off a bit. Good chaps, Christopher thought. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips after a long draw from the glass, causing Valentine to look up at him in surprise.  
“A damn fine brew.” Christopher remarked, smiling at Valentine, toasting the bar keep. The bar keep smiled and nodded, acknowledging Christopher’s toast. Valentine smiled sweetly at her lover and his unrestrained expression of joy toward his drink. Christopher lowered the now quarter empty glass carefully to the table. “How’s your pie?”  
“Mmm…” Valentine nodding at Christopher, trying to finish her most recent bite quickly to answer him. “It’s enchantingly good. I will have to remember to tell Margaret about this place when I see her again at the school.” Valentine took another bite, Christopher once again digging into his own remaining pork pie.  
“Do you plan to remain employed at the school?” Christopher asked honestly, glancing casually at Valentine, measuring her reaction to his question, but continuing to eat.  
“I…I…I don’t know. I mean I hadn’t really thought about it. I supposed I would like to, since I can’t just wait for you…every day.” Valentine cringed at how that must have sounded. “I mean, I meant I don’t like to be idle.” Valentine stammered watch Christopher continue to slice up his pork pie, a smile creeping about the edges of his downturned face.  
“Are you toying with me, Mr. Tietjens?” Valentine asked playfully, sipping from her glass of wine.  
“No, Miss Wannop, I am not toying with you,” Christopher shaking his head as he looked up smiling. Christopher laid his fork and knife gently on either side of the plate, and reaching for his pint. “I assumed you would retain your position as the games mistress at the school. Since I know, you are not one to stand idle. I just wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter.” Christopher ended by taking a large gulp of beer, watching her over the rim of the glass. Valentine’s smile widened a bit more at his obvious playful nature she had never been able to witness until now. She did not think she could love him more, but she did. Her heart swelled inside her chest as she shook her head in amusement.  
“Well, to be honest, I do love working there. The girls are so hopeful about the future….Do you know what they asked me once?” Christopher sat back listening, hold his pint of beer, his other hand on the table. “They asked me if I had a sweetheart in the war.” Valentine shyly tucking her head at Christopher half-chuckle.  
“And what did you tell them?” Christopher asked quietly. Valentine’s smile dropped a bit as she answered honestly, “I told them nothing. I didn’t respond. I guess I didn’t really know if you were alive right then. And of course they would ask a hundred other questions about you.” Valentine replied softly, reaching across to take Christopher’s hand. “Questions I didn’t want to answer.” Valentine whispered as she watched their fingers wind and unwind in a sort of erotic dance. Christopher captured her hand softly, jolting Valentine out of her wandering thoughts, squeezing it gently. Valentine looked to Christopher, who had finished his pint, placing the empty glass on the table between them. Valentine spoke first with earnest emotion.  
“I understand why you couldn’t write to me while you were away. I do. And I was so happy you wrote my mother. Each time your letter came, it was proof, proof you were alive. And as much as I wanted one letter to be for me, if it meant I must give up that precious gift to see you home safe so we could be together, I would be glad the letters were not for me.” Valentine smiled brightly at Christopher.  
“I wanted to write to you. Does that count?” Christopher whispered, leaning closer toward Valentine. Valentine nodded her head, smiling more brightly, “Yes, it counts, my dear. It counts.” The finished their meal, when Christopher announced they would go to Mark’s home as the exited the restaurant. Christopher offered his arm again, which Valentine graciously accepted. They started walking west on High Holborn Street a bit when Christopher spoke, “Mark told me that you visited him while I was away.” It was just a statement, no question, but Valentine responded.  
“Yes, I…when it seemed it had been longer than normal between letters, I grew desperate. So asked to see him.”   
“But why him? You could have gone to Macmaster for the same information?” Christopher stated his tone even. Just then, Christopher turned and started to walk through a small park. Valentine thought about her promise to be honest with Christopher.  
“I think your brother knows, knew, knows…about us.” Valentine announced. She dare not mention the awful gossip that had spread around about her and Christopher while he was away. She wasn’t sure if he was aware and she would spare him any more indignities because of this awful wife.  
“Of course he does, I escorted you to his home yesterday…” Christopher stated, but was interrupted but Valentine, who stopped in the park, turning to face Christopher.  
“No! He knew back when you were last home from the war. He told me I was good for you, when we were at the war office. Before you asked me….” Valentine voice trailed off, seeing Christopher’s horrified expression.  
“How did you respond?” Christopher asked curiously, silently cursing and blessing his brother’s meddling.  
“I told him nothing.” Valentine paused nervously, “He offered a yearly annuity of 500 pounds for my mother, brother, and I.”   
“WHAT?!!” Christopher shouted loudly, Valentine flinched a bit, but he calmed down a bit, realizing his frustration was being directed at the wrong person. Valentine moved closer to Christopher, embracing him lightly to reassure him.  
“He just wants you to be happy. And I think the money has more to do with your father’s wishes due to my father’s faithful service to your family.”  
“But he need not couple his offer with anything to do with my happiness, or his crude implications regarding our relationship. I don’t need his help or my father’s money.” Christopher growled.  
“So why are we going to visit him now?” Valentine knew about the offer Mark had offered to Christopher because Mark had told her on her last visit. Her expression must have given her knowledge of the offer away as Christopher cursed silently. Christopher was embarrassed by his financial situation.   
“Christopher, we don’t have to go to Mark. I have money. I’ve been saving all my earnings from my position at the school for the past three years.” Valentine explained excitedly. “I’ve saved over a thousand pounds.” Valentine smiled beautifully. Christopher reached a gloved hand to stroke his lover’s wind-blown hair. She was willing to give it all to him to save him from going to his brother.  
“I would beggar myself before I take that which you have worked so hard to earn.” Christopher stated slyly trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, it should be I who is taking care of you, not the other way around. Isn’t that how these things are typically done?” Valentine responded brazenly.  
“Mr. Tietjens, you will take my gift to you for your brave service to this great nation.” Valentine absently spoke as she adjusted Christopher’s coat, then paused to look up at the most wonderful man she had ever met. “For I want to wake up in your arms every morning after being made love to in a right and proper bed.” Valentine stood on her the tips of her toes and softly placed a kiss on a speechless Christopher Tietjens’ lips. Valentine turned and started to walk again, leaving a studded Christopher standing, however his head pivoted watching Valentine walk away. Valentine turned, walking backwards for a few steps, smiling, “Welcome to the 20th century,” Valentine announced. Christopher laughed silently as he turned to catch up. The last Tory was truly almost gone from this world.  
Valentine and Christopher went immediately to a good, quality furniture store not far from Gray’s Inn. Valentine did not know what to look for as far as quality, but when she saw something she liked, she would show Christopher for his assessment. He would check the joints and braces; he seemed to have an extensive knowledge of general good construction methods. And that was the rhythm they set, she would point and he would inspect. Soon, she knew what was good and was not so good. Christopher spent a few minutes with the owner, discussing the delivery of the items they had purchased. The total bill was 328 pounds, almost a year’s worth of Valentine’s pay by Christopher’s calculations. It shamed him to think about it. But he did look forward to making love to his darling Valentine in a wide, soft, and comfortable bed. He also wished to see their flat filled with life and love; a little furniture would be a good start. Christopher shook hands with the amiable furniture owner, settling the bill, then turning to walk to Valentine.  
“Everything settled?” Valentine asked. Christopher nodded yes silently, placing the invoice into his coat pocket.  
“Christopher, I think I would like to go to visit my mother for a bit.” Valentine spoke slowly as Christopher put is overcoat back on. “I need to check on her and pick up a few things. I can’t very well wear the same skirt forever.” Valentine giggled as she continued. “You’re welcome to come, but I thought you’d might...”Christopher embraced Valentine, smiling kindly, reassuring her.  
“Valentine, I highly doubt any mother would want to meet the man you took the virtue of her daughter without the benefit of marriage.” Christopher reminded Valentine, pulling is gloves on.  
“But she always enjoyed your company.” Valentine reminded Christopher in return. Christopher chuckled at her attempt to convince him to join her to visit her mother.  
“Darling, I’m not comfortable. I doubt I would be able to look you mother in the eyes, knowing the dishonor I have compelled upon her lovely daughter.” Christopher spoke earnestly.  
“There is no dishonor.” Valentine told Christopher with equal earnest insistence. Christopher’s comments reminded Valentine of the conversation between her and her mother before she decided to seek out Christopher of her own accord. It was reckless, Valentine knew, going to see a married man living alone. But she had to know if he still wanted her to be his mistress.  
Christopher ushered Valentine out the shop door to busy sidewalk. Valentine turned expectantly to Christopher.  
“See to your mother. Gather what you need and meet me at the flat around 4.” Christopher stated, looking to his wristwatch. “Is that enough time for you?” Valentine nodded softly, her gloved hand resting on the lapel of Christopher’s overcoat. Christopher made a mental note to get a set of keys to the flat made for Valentine.   
“What if she won’t see me? Valentine asked expectantly to Christopher, her lip trembling a bit. Christopher covered her hand resting on his chest with his own. He smiled kindly, lifting her petite-gloved hand to his lips, kissing it. “She will see you, my love. She loves you.” Valentine smiled at Christopher’s kind reassurances. She touched his cheek in gratitude.  
“I meet you at 4.” With that, she started to walk away from Christopher. Valentine glanced over her shoulder to her Christopher, smiling as she continued around the corner.  
Valentine hovered at the front gate to her mother’s home, her home. Was it her home now? No, her home was with Christopher now. So curious to think all that had changed in less than 48 hours, Valentine thought. Valentine wanted to believe nothing had changed between her and her mother. There was no way to know standing at the gate, Valentine thought. She opened the gate quietly, but she knew her mother would hear it; the gate had been their warning of visitors. Valentine readied herself for whatever met her on the other side of the door. She did not have to wait long, as Valentine watched as the front door open a fraction. Valentine walked up the four steps up to the door, and pushed the ajar door open quietly.  
Valentine’s mother stood by the modest table and chairs in the large main room of Valentine’s former home. Her mother’s expression looked expectant, dare Valentine, believe happy.  
“Hello, mother.” Valentine spoke softly, smiling gently. Valentine waited anxiously, watching her mother wring her hands a bit, but silent.  
“Is it done?” Valentine’s mother asked. Valentine was not sure what her mother meant, but then she realized she knew exactly what her mother was questioning her daughter about. Valentine was a bit taken aback by her mother’s forwardness. It really wasn’t any of her business, Valentine thought indignantly.   
Perhaps it was a good thing Christopher had not come. But perhaps mother would not ask just questions in Christopher’s presence, Valentine thought, but knew better. Her mother was in state, she would not be deterred until she had the answers she wanted.  
“Mother…” Valentine attempting to soothe her obvious distraught mother.  
“Are you his mistress now? Valentine’s mother interrupted asking the pointedly.  
“Mother, you know how…” Valentine pleaded as she closed the door and started to remove her coat, but her mother interrupted her again.  
“Ohhhh, you don’t have to say it!” Mrs. Wannop loudly proclaimed, waving her hands about frantically. “It’s written all over your face. Oh, my darling girl. I didn’t believe Tietjens would do it. I thought he was an honorable man.” Mrs. Wannop frantically spoke as she looked at her daughter expression from hurt to anger. Mrs. Wannop sat in one of chairs at the table, her face held in her hands in disbelief.   
“Mother! Don’t! Don’t you dare imply Christopher is not an honorable man!” Valentine shouted at her mother, pointing her finger as she did. Mrs. Wannop was equally shocked at her daughter’s vicious verbal attack, but she supposed that she should expected nothing less. “Christopher is saint among men. He has always been kind to you, and our family, long before he and I fell in love. And you should be ashamed of yourself for questioning his honor!”  
Mrs. Wannop realized her daughter was right. She sobbed softly in her hands, realizing she had lost her daughter and a dear friend in her frustration. She reached out and held her daugher’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I am sorry, Valentine. I’ve been so worried about you.” Valentine’s expression softened as she sat as well in the adjacent chair, still holding her mother’s trembling hand. “I know you are a smart girl. But, since you never were betrothed to anyone, I never…we never…talked about...” Valentine smiled at her mother.  
“It’s alright, mother.” Valentine reassured. “Everything was…perfect. Christopher was wonderful and kind. There is nothing to worry about.”  
“Nothing to worry about? Valentine, who is going to type for me now that you have a man to look after? Believe me, Val, you have no idea how much work having a man in your life? Absolutely exhausting.” Mrs. Wannop declared dramatically.  
Valentine thought she felt pretty exhausted when she awoke this morning. She could get very comfortable with that feeling. But her mother needed reassurances, not risqué details.  
“Of course I will still type for you, and anything else you might need. I will only be a few minutes away from here. Not in India.” Valentine assured her mother.  
A while later, Valentine checked the clock on the mantle, thirty minutes after three. She would need to get her things she came for. Her mother was in much better spirits as Valentine described her day with Christopher and his battalion soldiers. Her mother laughed heartily at the many jokes, several fairly dirty, Valentine had learned that night. It was nice to see her mother happy.  
“Mother, I need to gather some things and meet Christopher at the flat by 4.” Valentine announced as she pushed away from the table, gathering the teacups to take them into the kitchen.   
“Do you plan to taken all your things tonight or just bits at a time?” Mrs. Wannop called into the kitchen. Valentine walked back into the main room as she answered her mother.  
“Well I need to have enough so I don’t look like a vagabond, hefting my wares back and forth. I was thinking to taking a few things today, and then have the rest delivered. I will come back in a few days to pack everything and visit.”  
Valentine packed her favorite things in a medium satchel. She glanced at the clock next to her bed, 3:45. She needed to go. She did not want to be too late meeting Christopher. Valentine paused at the door as she left her mother’s home.   
“Perhaps in time, you can come and visit us, mother? I know Christopher would be happy to know you do not hate him.” Valentine waited to hear her mother’s response.  
“In time. Now go, or you will be late.” Mrs. Wannop sighed as she watched as her only daughter walked out the gate to a very unsure future.


	6. One in a Million

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1918

It had been almost a month since Valentine and Christopher had begun their new life together. The days slipped by with such ease that Valentine sometimes had to remind herself that it was all real. It wasn’t a dream as she lay in the large beautiful mahogany bed, her head lying on Christopher’s bare shoulder, her petite hand being held in his large one as he slept. No, this wasn’t a dream, it was her new reality.

Most of the furniture arrived within a few days after they had purchased it. Apparently, Christopher had been very clear that the priority was the bed, and he would prefer it to be delivered that day if possible. Sadly, Christopher had to relent in his request and agree to the following day. That meant they would have one more night together without the benefit of a suitable bed. This irritated Christopher, but he decided that he would not let it ruin his brilliant day with his ladylove. When Valentine returned from visiting her mother, he dreaded what she might tell him. Nevertheless, Christopher stood by the fire, a glass of scotch in his hand; as he listened to Valentine tell him about her visit with her mother. He was surprised by what Valentine relayed to him. It seemed Mrs. Wannop was not as upset as he had imagined. He smiled ruefully, realizing that Mrs. Wannop was a smart and intelligent woman, the only writer he didn’t have to correct in the margins of their books. This must have something to do with it, but it made him happy to realize she did not hate him for what he had done to her daughter. It made him happier that Valentine had not lost her mother; he feared she may need her mother in the future and did not want Valentine to have no one she could trust to go to. The intrigues would be undoubtbly swirling about them before long, Christopher pondered as he took another long draw from the scotch in the glass he held.

Christopher casually placed the now empty scotch glass on the mantel. Valentine was perched on the infernal campstool she seemed always to sit upon. It made Christopher’s stomach clench in anger that she had to sit there and not in something more appropriate. 

“My dear, I have some unfortunate news to tell you.” Christopher started solemnly. His tone surprised Valentine a bit.

“Oh?” She asked curiously. Valentine rose up in concern, covering the few paces between them to stand in front of Christopher. She waited expectantly.

“I’m afraid most of the furniture cannot be delivered until tomorrow.” Christopher spoke openly, as he watched Valentine’s confusion and concern fade to a soft smile. “That will mean that we will not have…a…place to…” Christopher stammered a bit, but Valentine placed a finger over his lips.

“We do have a place.” She reminded him, glancing at the camp bed, still standing across the room. Christopher cringed as he looked at the bed they had shared.

“Hardly a place to…” Christopher commented under his breath, scratching nervously at the back of his head. So he did that when embarrassed as well, Valentine thought. 

“It’s alright, Christopher. Everything will be fine.” Valentine promised him as she kissed him sweetly on the lips. Christopher nodded, although she knew he only agreed for her benefit. However, sure enough, later that evening, Valentine showed him how everything would be fine, with or without the mahogany bed, they had purchased that day. She found all the linens and pillows around the flat, and created a majilis in front of the fireplace. She had read about them in a book regarding the Middle East. She had been shocked when she read about the harems held by men of power. But the description of the majilis, with all its colorful pillows and fabrics it described sounded wonderfully exotic and beautiful. It would be perfect for her second night with Christopher, and him lamenting their lack of a proper bed for yet another night. Valentine had put away all the military gear Christopher seemed to dislike so much. Christopher had been truly amazed at the wondrous scene Valentine had managed to create for them out a few pillows, linens, and candles. He smiled in delight, as Valentine seems genuinely giddy with his uncensored reaction to her efforts. That night they chatted about all manner of things, they made love, and fell asleep on the floor, before the fire. The last thought Valentine had was, “who needs a bed when I have this man in my arms?”

Over the next three weeks, the home of Christopher Tietjens and Valentine Wannop slowly became just that, a home. Valentine discovered that while she was a progressive young woman, she rather liked Christopher’s sense of form and function Victorian style; he had a sense of tidiness that went perfectly with her own. Although she did like some of the new art deco styling that was beginning to make waves around London. After the last of the furniture was delivered, Christopher declared that the flat had been “properly kitted out,” although there were a few rooms with no furniture, it was sufficient for their needs. Valentine questioned Christopher on his comment about being “kitted out” having never heard such. Christopher went on to describe how when he was in France he was in charge of “kitting out” the regiment, and this was prior to him being sent to “the front.” Each time he started to talk about being at “the front” his mood changed and he seemed to collapse into himself the more he tried to discuss or describe it. Valentine resolved to try to not bring the subject up as much as possible, since Christopher was still dealing with the trauma of the war.

Valentine returned to work a few days after Armistice Day, all the girls finally returning from a short break due to the war ending. Christopher, unbeknownst to Valentine, had procured a position with the furniture storeowner that day they had went shopping. Christopher advised that the storeowner was very impressed with Christopher’s knowledge, and noted he needed a good right hand man to ensure he wasn’t being swindled. It turned out that the man was being swindled, and thereby his customers are well. The man, Mr. Hollingsworth, was truly grateful to have Christopher in his employ, and Christopher genuinely enjoyed the work. He did not interact with the customers, but he did work with the shipments, accountancy, and inventory. On the evening Valentine was made aware of Christopher’s new position, they were having dinner Valentine had prepared earlier in the day. Christopher enjoyed Valentine’s cooking greatly, sometimes partaking in seconds. 

“That’s wonderful, Christopher!” Valentine announced when he described the position at the store as he cut the roasted beef and scooping up some potatoes and cabbage along with it. Christopher, as his custom, had his napkin tucked in his collar to avoid any mishaps with the thick gravy Valentine prepared with the roast beef. Christopher glanced over to Valentine, to notice her brow furrowing with concern as she looked at her plate. Christopher seeing her concern, reached out to stroke Valentine’s lace covered arm.  
“You have concerns.” Christopher stated, not questioning. Valentine looked up and half smiled at his comment  
“It’s just…when we went there…together…I mean…does he…know…about me?” Valentine asked hesitantly. Christopher looked away, removing his hand from her arm, as he returned to eating.  
“Of course he does.” Christopher answered softly, slicing the beef before him on the plate. Valentine placed her hands in her lap, watching, waiting for Christopher to continue.  
“You’re my wife.” Christopher stated, as he boldly looked straight into Valentine’s soft eyes. He could see the tears that had built there, but they receded a bit at his declaration. Valentine smiled and nodded softly, not saying a word, as she returned to her meal as well.

And so, small moments of domestic bliss were there’s and there’s alone to share with each other. Valentine was very busy between her employment at the school and caring for her mother and taking care of things around the flat, some days Christopher would come home to find her asleep on one of the sofas in the living room. Each morning Valentine would cook breakfast for Christopher and herself. Nothing elaborate, just eggs, bacon, and bread. Rationing for the war was still imposed, but since Christopher was a war veteran, his rations were double everyone else’s. Christopher sat down to begin eating and read his newspaper, when he watched as Valentine floated gracefully about the room in her schoolteacher uniform. She had a fitted double-breasted cream sweater with brown buttons over top of her white shirt and tie. The ensemble showed her beautiful and graceful body quite nicely. He looked away to his newspaper as she brought cups of tea to them both.

“I know you were watching me, Mr. Tietjens.” Valentine commented, Christopher looking toward her in surprise. Valentine walked around to the back of his chair, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I work at a school filled with young girls. I have eyes in the back of my head.” She whispered, and then softly kissed Christopher on the cheek. Christopher for his part, laughed at her mischievous comment. However, he had been right caught in his gawping at her luscious body, which only a few hours before was wrapped comfortably in his arms in the bed upstairs. Valentine returned to the table to begin eating as well. Christopher always waited for her to join him.

“You really shouldn’t wait for me Christopher. Your food will get cold.” Valentine admonished softly as she unfolded the napkin into her lap. Christopher did not respond, but tucked his napkin in its typical spot, his shirt collar.

“I think it’s time we employed someone to help around the flat.” Christopher stated, looking up from his plate to assess Valentine’s response. “I have calculated the numbers, and I have sufficient funds to do so now. Besides, with your employment, caring for your mother...”

“Caring for you…”Valentine interjected. Christopher smiled and continued. “Yes, well, I think it would be appropriate to have someone to help with the cleaning, washing, cooking…”

“You don’t like my cooking?!” Valentine stated in mock protest. Christopher chuckled deeply at her affected display; he reached across to take her hand.

“Quite the contrary, my dear. I fear I may have to have my shirts taken out to accommodate the extra girth that you have added upon me.” Valentine laughed as Christopher rubbed his stomach in dramatic fashion.

“I love your extra girth.” Valentine stated as she leaned across and kissed her lover’s hand she held. She remembered him when he returned from the war, he was so gaunt, pale, and too thin in her mind. Christopher nodded in agreement, it was decided, and they would employ a housemaid to assist with the daily running of the home. He would engage Mark to help in the matter. 

They both eat breakfast in relative silence for a few minutes. As Valentine finished and was sipping her tea, she glanced to Christopher.

“I have you heard from Michael?” Valentine asked innocently. She knew he hadn’t, nothing had arrived, no calls received, but she knew that Christopher had written to his son several times, to explain things. Christopher mouth and jaw flexed a bit at the question.

“No.” 

“I’m sorry, Christopher. I’m sorry I brought it up.” Valentine stated as she ducked her head down in guilt. 

“No, no. It’s fine. I suppose we should talk about it. God only knows what is happening up there.” Christopher stated as he sipped his tea. He cringed to think about Michael trapped with only his wife as a parent. Oh god, Sylvia. He had almost managed to forget her these past few weeks. How he longed to rip his son away from that guttersnipe and bring him home to Valentine. Christopher gazed at his lovely Valentine over the rim of his cup. She would be so good to Michael, he was sure of it. Michael would have the loving, warm, caring mother he deserved in Valentine. Oh, how he wished it could be so. However, the clock on the mantle had other ideas, and snapped him out of his daydreaming. The clock began to chime 9:00, time for both of them to depart. Together they cleared away the dishes, but there was no time to wash them. Christopher arched an eyebrow and stated, “A clear sign, we need help.” Valentine laughed at him, shooing him out of the small kitchen.

Later that day, Valentine walked briskly through the hallway of the school to the Director of Academics, her direct supervisor. She had received a note from Margaret to come visit her when she had a moment. Margaret, Maggie as she liked to be called, was a dear woman. She had defended Valentine when she had found the Married Love book in the girl’s shower bath. 

Valentine knocked softly on the office door, hearing “Come” from Maggie inside, Valentine entered the room.

“Ahhhh, Valentine. Come in, come in.” Maggie waved Valentine forward, as she moved files and papers around on her desk. “Sit. Sit.” Valentine took a seat in one of the leather chairs on the opposite side of the large desk.

“Oh. My. Land!” Maggie stated exhaustedly, leaning forward, wavering as if she was going to faint. “If I have to look at one more paper…you are so lucky you don’t have to read this stuff. It can be dreadfully boring.” Maggie stated as she leaned back in the tall wooden and leather chair behind the large desk as rocked back in forth a bit. Valentine laughed softly at her supervisor and her friend. “But occasionally, you find a diamond in the rough. And it makes it all worth it.” Maggie paused looking at Valentine sweetly. “Much like how I found you.” Valentine nodded in agreement. They had met at a suffrage meeting four years ago, and Maggie was instantly taken by Valentine’s keen intellect. 

“How are you Maggie?” Valentine asked, as she watched her friend reach into a drawer and pull out a bottle of whiskey. She opened and started to pour a glass for herself. Maggie looked up questioningly to Valentine, waging the bottle at Valentine if she would like some. Valentine smiled and shook her head no.

“Well, now that the war is over, things will be changing dramatically around her I imagine.” Maggie noted, taking a small sip of her whiskey. “We will lose them soon, Valentine. Our girls. Their sweethearts will return, or have returned, and one by one we will lose them. Through marriage, no marriage, pregnancy.” Maggie stated as she rattled off each way that a girl was barred from returning to the school. “It’s all sex, sex, sex now.” Maggie laughed, and Valentine half-heatedly did the same, thinking how right she was. “God I hate war. You think things will change, but they always return right where they left off when the war started. And women typically are on the losing end of that situation.” Maggie announced as she took a bigger swig from the glass.

“Speaking of losing situations, I had a visit today from the head master.” Valentine rolled her eyes a bit. She could never understand why a woman couldn’t be the head of a girl’s school. Mr. Jameson had ultimate authority, although Maggie knew how to handle him. 

“He came to me with some ghastly story he had been told at a party last night. Like I care what those posh ton are saying. All hot air bags if you ask me.” Valentine waited patiently as Maggie continued, although she had no idea what this had to do with her. But there had been times, Maggie had just needed someone to chat with so Valentine patiently listened.

“So, he starts by telling me that apparently there is this huge scandal about some Yorkshire nobleman…” Maggie announced picking up her glasses and note pad to read the name, Valentine waited breathlessly. “Christopher Tietjens.”

Oh god. Valentine cried internally, but keeping her emotions in check.

“And apparently this Tietjens has forsaken his wife and son, and all this responsibilities, in order to live permanently with his mistress here in London.” Maggie paused, and then continued. “Of course I asked him why in the world he or I should even care about what this Tietjens does. And he advised me that Tietjens’ mistress was you!” Maggie stated, but then laughed heartedly as she continued, “I told him that was impossible. That you lived with your mother, and it was all a vicious rumor started by people who had too much money and not enough education.” Maggie proclaimed and then drained the last of her whiskey. Valentine heart was racing, as she said nothing, but tried to remain calm. What does she say? Does she lie? Tell the truth?

“So that’s why I brought you in here. To have a good laugh and hear it from your lips.” Maggie stated lightly, but her face fell a bit when Valentine didn’t immediately respond. She watched as Valentine’s chest rose and fell rapidly, a blush creeping up her neck and face. 

Oh god, Valentine thought desperately.

“Oh god. It’s true.” Maggie whispered, mirroring Valentine’s thoughts. Maggie immediately stood walking around to sit in the chair opposite Valentine. By now, tears were falling from Valentine’s cheeks. Valentine knew she had been caught, she knew what this meant. It was worse seeing the look of horror and shock on her friend’s face.

“Yes, it’s true.” Valentine whispered tearfully, “I am Christopher Tietjens’ mistress.” Maggie stood up and began pacing a bit, but then calmly sat again, watched helplessly as Valentine crumbled into such a tearful state. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Valentine whispered over and over. Maggie could take it no longer, she gathered her friend in her arms as she cried. 

“There, there, now. What is done is done.”  
“You must hate me for not tell you.” Valentine sobbed.  
“I wouldn’t have told you either if I had been in your shoes.” Maggie stated pulling away to peer into Valentine’s red-rimmed eyes.  
“When? How did this happen, Valentine?” Maggie asked sincerely.  
“Oh, Maggie! I have loved him for soo long. And he’s a good man, and honorable man. I never thought I would get this chance, with everything had was happening around us, the war…”  
“His marriage…” Maggie interjected. Valentine only nodded in agreement.  
“And when he came home from the war, I knew this was my last chance. So I took it. I took a chance at love.” Valentine cried hopelessly.  
“He must love you greatly to risk the wrath of those posh idiots.” Maggie commented sweetly. Maggie reached for a kerchief in her pocket, offering it to Valentine. She waited a moment to let Valentine compose herself.

“Valentine, you know you cannot continue your employment here if this is the path you have chosen.” Maggie advised. “I know why you did this. But young girls will get the wrong impression and are easily led astray by men far below your Mr. Tietjens.”

“I know. I know. Christopher is a wonderful man.” Valentine declared.

“One in a million it would seem. For the Valentine I know would never give something so precious to man any less.” Maggie stated softly, reminding Valentine of her strength and goodness.


	7. Surprises of All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 1919

The days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months. Christmas and New Years were quiet affairs in the Tietjens-Wannop home. Valentine’s dismissal from her position was not a surprise to Christopher; he knew the ton were bound to talk. Especially if Sylvia had anything to do about it. Christopher’s chest squeezed tightly as he remembered coming home that evening in December to find Valentine waiting for him. He remembered seeing her red-rimmed eyes and flushed face, and he knew something had happened, he just wished he had been able to be with her sooner. Of course, Valentine tried to spin the travesty to be a good thing by trying to convince him they didn’t need the housekeeper they had discussed earlier in the day. Christopher, however, countered her arguments by stating he would not want to see her toiling all day. He would prefer he spent her time caring for her mother and engaging in her interests, such as volunteering at the orphanage she had told him about and the women’s equality movement she had always been involved in. Valentine finally relented and agreed to continue with retaining the new housekeeper.  
Christopher visited Mark, who was still struggling with the chest infection he had when Christopher last visited over a month prior. He advised Mark his desire to engage a housekeeper at the Gray’s Inn flat, but he needed someone who could be trusted, discreet. Mark understood Christopher’s dilemma, advising he would make some inquiries. A few weeks later, after interviewing several candidates, Christopher and Valentine agreed to offer the position to a middle-aged woman, named Madeleine, who had recently lost her husband to sickness and her son to the war. She seemed unfazed by Christopher and Valentine’s relationship when asked, by stating, “Well now, life is too short to wait for perfection, now is it.” Madeleine, who preferred to be called Maddie, also had the added benefit of being from Yorkshire area, and knew about Groby and the horrible fact that the Great Groby Tree had been felled. Her emotion at the fact, her tragic situation, and genuine warm nature drew Christopher to her, and after a short discussion, Valentine agreed they should offer Maddie the position. The position included a private room with a bed, a writing stand, linens, and a hipbath. Maddie would have Sunday day and Wednesday evenings off for personal errands, and a monthly salary of three and half pounds. She would be responsible for the general cleaning of the home, the washing, and the cooking, although Valentine made it clear she liked to cook herself. It was a fairly generous salary, given the amount of work expected and the time off allowance, but since a certain trust and discretion was needed, Christopher preferred to ensure their housekeeper could not be easily bribed for information.  
Soon Maddie proved to be an excellent addition to the household. It freed up a lot of time for Valentine, which allowed her to spend time more with Christopher without having to be running about at the same time. Every morning Maddie would bring the day’s mail to Christopher at the dining table. And each day Valentine watched, as she knew Christopher looked for a note from Michael. Nothing again. Valentine sighed silently, thinking it had been too long for Michael to not have written back. Perhaps Christopher should call Groby and talk to Michael. The single phone in the flat was in on the credenza in the front hallway. It rarely rang, except from the furniture store or Mrs. Wannop. Something had to be done, Valentine thought. A few nights this month, Valentine had been woken by Christopher calling out his son’s name in his sleep; she dare not mention it to Christopher, he was so worried as it was.   
As if on cue, the telephone began to ring in the hallway, the sound startling Valentine from her musings. Christopher turned to see Maddie walk to answer the offensive mechanism. Christopher was not a fan of the invention, but it had some useful purposes being in the home. Maddie returned to the dining room, “Telephone call, sir. It’s Mr. Macmaster.” Maddie announce softly. Christopher paused as he scooted the chair back from the table. He had not spoken to Macmaster since he had returned. He had seen him about, mostly leaving for the day from Gray’s Inn. However, that had not actually spoken.  
“Excuse me.” Christopher stated as he walked into the hallway. Maddie began clearing away the breakfast dishes as Valentine waited for Christopher to return. Valentine heard the receiver click back into its cradle as Christopher walked back to the dining area.   
“What did Macmaster want?” Valentine queried innocently, toying with the empty cup and saucer still sitting on the table. Christopher returned to his seat, finishing off his remaining coffee in one gulp. He enjoyed coffee more in the morning than tea.  
“He invited me to lunch. I suppose I need to engage him. Can’t hide forever.” Christopher noted quietly, resetting his cup into its saucer.   
“Just be careful, my dear. I know he is your friend, but sometimes things change, and you don’t even know when or why.” Valentine spoke earnestly, remembering her altercation with Macmaster’s wife, Edith. She had accused Valentine of having had Christopher’s bastard child. At the time, she had been horrified, but conversely deep down how Valentine had wished it was true.   
“Did something happen while I was away?” Christopher’s eyes narrowed at Valentine’s archaic comment.   
“I had a disagreement with Edith.” Valentine explained, “about you.” Christopher nodded acknowledging Valentine’s comment. He didn’t need to hear the sordid details. It did not take a genius to deduce the reason of the disagreement, since he was aware of any number of rumors drifting about in the ether about him.   
“Well, I am sure that is all in the past now.” Christopher patted her hand softly, rising from his seat and straightening his suit jacket. “Well, I am off. There is a large shipment arriving today at the port today. And there’s lunch with Macmaster.” Christopher stated blandly. Valentine watched him as he turned to leave, however he paused and returned to Valentine.   
“Do have a beautiful day, love.” Christopher whispered as he wrapped his hand around the back of Valentine’s neck and kissed her the top of her head.  
“Love you.” Valentine responded sweetly as Christopher turned to leave. Valentine turned to see Maddie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a sad, sweet expression on her face. Maddie moved forward into the dining area.  
“I hope you don’t mind me sayin’ this, but Mr. Tietjens is a right fine gentleman.” She looked cautiously at Valentine, gauging her response to a somewhat impertinent comment by an employee. Valentine smiled at Maddie, looking back at the now empty hallway. “Yes. Yes, he is.”   
**********************  
Christopher met Macmaster at The Ivy, a place they had gone many times in the past. They both enjoyed the excellent selection of scotches and whiskeys they served, as well as the bangers and mash. It was almost exclusively patronized by government men, which he was no longer, but it was a good place for them to meet without threat of gossip.  
The conversation flowed naturally and freely between Christopher and Macmaster. Both were genuinely enjoying themselves.  
“How is Valentine?” Macmaster asked in his deep Scottish accent. Christopher tensed a bit, but he knew that Macmaster was not looking for gossip to spread, just a genuine curiosity regarding Valentine’s well-being.  
“She is well.” Christopher explained flatly, but continued. “And radiant. And gentle. And possess such a keen mind, Macmaster. There are times I could talk to her about anything, everything, for hours.”  
“Talk, eh?” Macmaster joked. Christopher gave him a mock warning glare over his glass of scotch at his friend, Macmaster.  
“Eh Chrissie. I want you to have these.” Macmaster pulled to slips of paper from his coat pocket. Christopher picked them up and saw they were for a play in Leicester Square at the end of the week. Christopher looked to his friend questioningly.  
“I had a mind to take Edith, but she told me it would be better if I gave them to you and Valentine. I know that you haven’t been out much together since you returned.” Christopher knew that must mean to the gossips that Valentine and he were holed up in there den of immorality, doing all manner of things to each other. However, Macmaster was right, they hadn’t done much, and they need to deal with the reality of their situation.  
“Perhaps a play would be a good thing.” Christopher agreed. “Thank you, Macmaster.” Christopher was glad to have his friend back. It would be nice to chat with him occasionally, even though his wife Edith kept him very busy most of the time.   
“You should stop by the flat after the play. I had forgotten Edith had planned a late supper party that night. Another reason I need to give the tickets away.” Macmaster explained. “Now, I know what you are going to say, but it will be just a few people, Chrissie. Hardly the crème-de-la-crème of the ton. And Edith so would like to see Valentine.” It was true what Macmaster stated, Edith had suggested giving the tickets to Christopher and inviting him to the party. She listed all the reasons Christopher and Valentine should take the opportunity, which Macmaster agreed and repeated to his friend, Chrissie.   
Christopher, for his part was cautious, not because he thought there was anything nefarious afoot with Macmaster’s offer. But Christopher knew something had happened between Valentine and Edith that troubled him. However, that had to be months ago, maybe a year by now. Possibly enough time had passed to salve the wound. Either way, they need to face the reality of their relationship when interacting with society. He was still a nobleman, if only in name and title.  
Christopher placed the tickets into his suit pocket. Macmaster clapped his hands in appreciation. “So will I tell Edith you are coming then?”  
“No, I don’t want to make any promises without discussing it with Valentine. But I will try to be convincing that we should make an appearance. If only in appreciation of your gift of the theatre tickets.” Christopher announced smartly.  
“Good show!” Macmaster raised his glass to Christopher, both of laughing deeply. Their laughter trailed off, as Macmaster looked solemnly at Christopher.  
“I’m really glad you made it back, Chrissie.”   
“As am I.” Christopher responded as he drained the last of his scotch.  
***************  
The evening of the play arrived. Christopher had convinced Valentine that they needed to do this. That they could not spend the rest of their lives in hiding. What they were doing, making a life together, was nothing to hide from the world, Christopher was convinced. However, he knew it would not be easy, at least not in the beginning. But they couldn’t back down from the decision they had made.   
Valentine decided she would “embrace” her potential new role as the inamorata in society, but she did not want to cause too much of a stir, but she also didn’t want to just fade into the background. She needed to strike the right balance of confidence, elegance, and loveliness for the play and anything else that might happen. Christopher had been adamant that she spend some of the money she had saved on herself, but she had yet to find a reason to do so. Plus, she didn’t feel right shopping for new, pretty things with so many people going without. But now she had a reason, and she resolved to spend some of the money. However, Valentine had no idea where to go to buy the type of clothing she wanted to buy. She needed a guide, someone who could show her where to go without fear they too would be seen like her. Then, she thought of it….Marie….Mark’s mistress. She could tell her where to go. Yes, yes. I will go to see her and ask for some recommendations, Valentine thought. She only had a few days, so she hoped she could find something that did not require a lot of tailoring.   
Valentine was happy to discover Marie was more than gracious to help her. Marie was an actress and a dancer, but scandalous professions for a young woman. Marie gathered Valentine to her personal carriage and told the driver to go to Knightsbridge. The carriage started forward, but Valentine had second thoughts.  
“I don’t think I can go to Knightsbridge.” Valentine stated anxiously to Marie.   
“Of course you can, you are going there now, silly luv.” Maria stated as she checked her face in a mirrored box Mark had given her when they started their affair so many years ago.  
“No, I mean, I don’t think it would be proper.” Valentine explained. Marie looked at Valentine, snapping her mirror closed sharply, signaling her irritation.  
“Tell me what is not proper about it?” Marie asked sharply, her French accent more pronounced. “Is it you or me, that you are ashamed with?” Valentine sat back a bit, considering the woman’s question.  
“Neither. It is just that…” Valentine stammered, but Marie interrupted her.  
“You asked for my help, and I am glad to give it.” Marie softened her tone and looked directly at Valentine as she continued. “You are a good girl. I am not. However, good girl or bad girl, the first thing you must realize is that people will see what they want to see. It will not matter how strenuously you argue, or how valid your argument is, you will never convince them otherwise of their reality.” Marie glanced out the carriage windows, watching the upper class people walk along the Mall. “These people will never accept you and Christopher. Christopher has done that which is more egregious that losing your fortune or title, he has thumbed his nose at them, more than once I might add.” Marie chuckled as she remembered Mark regaling her with Christopher’s latest faux pas.  
“So we should leave London immediately. Skip the play, the party. We can’t stay locked up in our flat all the time.” Valentine announced. Maria reached across the carriage, placing her hand on Valentine’s knee, trying to calm her.  
“My dear, I said they would not accept you and Christopher, but that does not mean they would not engage you.” Maria’s eyebrow shot up intriguingly, Valentine leaned forward intently. “I have been doing this for a long time, Valentine. Mark will never marry me you see since I am a papist bitch as he puts it. And there is only one thing the ton loves more than money, and that is scandal.”  
“I don’t understand.” Valentine was confused. Marie flipped her hair back dramatically, laughing.  
“I know it is confusing. The people can be. Talking about propriety and domesticity, all the while every single one of them are anything but.”  
“Pulling the strings of the shower bath.” Valentine whispered as she remembered Christopher saying the same to his wicked wife. Marie laughed energetically, “YES! Yes, that’s it. That is exactly it.”  
“The trick is to not play their game.” Maria advised. “Keep the water either ice cold, probably not the best choice for either of you, or you keep the water hot.” Valentine did not understand Marie’s meaning.   
“My dear, you can play the cold, heartless mistress, dismissing everyone around you.” Maria explained softly. “Which comes in handy when faced with an equally cold-hearted wife or ex-lover.” Valentine immediately thought of Sylvia. “Or you can play the hot, sensuous lover, whom everyone wishes they could have or be.” Valentine was not sure she was comfortable with that thought.  
“For you, I think you should be somewhere on the warm side. Not sooo hot, at least not in public, that you seem doubtful. But not too cold, except when faced with a stray dog needing to be kicked away from your man.” Valentine giggled at Marie’s apt description.  
“Well, how do I do that?” Valentine asked shyly.  
“You go to Knightsbridge, my sweet.” Marie winked at her impishly.  
The day was very fun for Valentine. She had few friends that would be interested in fancy clothes, hairpins, and handbags. Frankly, Valentine felt a bit guilty by buying the beautiful things. A betrayal of her feminist principles. She confessed these feelings to Marie who sipped her champagne on the settee in the shop foyer while the adjusted one of the fine dresses Valentine decided to purchase.  
“When going into battle, you must have the right armor. And this,” Maria waved her hand at the dress now being fitted to Valentine’s petite frame, “is the right armor. Surely your suffragette self can concede the logic in that?” They both laughed at Marie’s cheeky response.  
The day of shopping had been a success. Valentine felt like she was ready to face whatever might happen that evening with grace. She hoped Christopher would also enjoy the dress as well. In a few days, she would know for certain.  
The evening for the play arrived. Christopher was in high spirits for the night’s engagements. He had sought out the cabman he once took to the office prior to the war in order to hire his horse-drawn cab for the night. He had thought to take the new underground tube system he had heard Macmaster rave But, but he selfishly wanted to see his exquisite Valentine under the stars in the light of the half-moon now rising above the city. The weather was cool, but not cold in London as he walked up the front steps of his flat’s building. If the temperature held, it would be splendid evening for a quiet ride through Hyde Park. The thoughts brought a half smile as he unlocked the door to the building.  
Upon entering the flat, he was greeted by Maddie, the housekeeper, which surprised Christopher, as Valentine was typically the one to greet him.  
“’ullo, Sir? Take your coat?” Maddie offered kindly.  
“No, Maddie, I can manage. Is Miss Wannop about?” Christopher asked as he shrugged out of this lighter overcoat, throwing it over his arm, and walking curiously into the main living area in search of Valentine.  
“Yes, sir. She’s upstairs, preparin’ for your evenin’ out.” Maddie answered expectantly. She liked her employers, who were a gentle and loving couple. The work was simple and the home she lived was quiet. “Val…Miss Wannop had me lay out your tuxedo for you sir. I’m no valet, but I brushed it out right good.” Christopher smiled as Maddie took the overcoat from his arm to hang in the front closet. “And I had your Oxfords polished up too.”   
“Thank you, Maddie. It seems you can be relied upon to think of everything.” Christopher replied.  
“Twas’nt my doin’, sir. Miss Wannop advised what needed doin’.” Maddie announced as she walked to the front closet. Maddie returned to Christopher. “She asked me to have you not enter your bedroom, asked if you could dress the dressing room next to the bath room. She wants to surprise you with her new dress.” Maddie advised enthusiastically. “If you don’t be needin’ anything more, sir. I’d like to go and help Miss Wannop with her ‘air.” Christopher nodded his agreement as he started to unbutton his suit coat. Dress? Valentine did not tell me about a dress she had purchased. Christopher thought.   
“I suppose it will be a night of surprises for all.” Christopher spoke softly to himself, smiling, as he glanced above him and absently patting the object in his suit pocket.  
An hour and a half later, Christopher was waiting in the main living area, drinking a scotch by the fireplace. He was dressed in his finely tailored black dress coat, with white bow tie, white low-cut waistcoat and starched wing collar shirt. The coat hugged closely to Christopher’s tall form body and had detailed in the seams. The pointed lapels were silk satin. The cuffs had four buttons each. The fronts cutaway at a sharp angle and the tails had a single vent. Valentine had laid out the red garnet shirt studs from his valet chest to wear for the evening. Christopher smiled at the detail she had paid in choosing the studs, for these were his favorite, a gift from his late mother.   
“Are you ready, Christopher?” Valentine called from the upstairs landing.  
“Yes! We must leave soon to avoid the crush at the theatre.” Christopher announced, waiting expectantly for his lover.  
“Close your eyes.” Valentine called to him. Christopher obliged and closed them. “Are they closed?”  
“Yes. Now come down so I may see you.” Christopher called anxiously.   
“No peeking.” Valentine called back menacingly. Valentine walked softly down the stairs, Christopher could hear the sound of her low-heeled slippers and the rush of the fabric of her dress. It sounded like beads whispering in unison as the fabric swayed as Valentine descended. How he wished he could open his eyes to see her.   
Valentine paused at the third step from the bottom of the stairs. Her breath caught at the beauty of her Christopher. She had to admit, he cut quite a fine example of British manhood. And he is mine, Valentine thought naughtily.  
“You can open your eyes.” Valentine whispered.  
Christopher opened his eyes to a vision of loveliness. His breath caught a bit in his chest as she looked at his sweet Valentine. Her air was upswept, the interwoven lengths of her hair dotted with pearls and a large white flower on one side. Her face was lightly feathered with cosmetic touches, but nothing drastic, since Valentine was naturally beautiful. But her lips were a wonderful shade of rose. Christopher wanted desperately to press them to his own. And the dress! It was a magnificent combination of elegance, boldness, and beauty. The skirt of the dress was triple-tiered and was made of luxurious and richly decorated blush pink matte silk with a silver gray net overlay embroidered with silver gilt thread and bugle beads. The bodice was boned with vivid dark red ruched silk velvet. The sleeves were ruched as well, with matched fabric and design of the skirt. The dress had a slight train that allowed the dress to sway softly but was not unmanageable. Christopher licked his dry lips as he took in the beauty before him. Long white matte satin gloves covered her hands and arms up to the elbows. Bold and modest at the same time, Christopher thought, only his Valentine could succeed at such an attempt. Christopher moved forward, taking each of Valentine’s hands and slowly turning her to see all of her attire. Perfect was all Christopher could think of.  
“I see now why you laid out the garnet studs.” Christopher advised. Valentine leaned in close to Christopher; mouth barely a feather from his.  
“I take it you like it.” She state breathlessly.  
“It is exquisite. You are exquisite.” Christopher whispered before kissing her sweetly on her lips. Christopher pulled away suddenly, “I don’t want to ruin your lovely lip stain.”  
“I can reapply it. But you should be more concerned with wearing it yourself.” Valentine advised as she pulled a handkerchief from her small handbag, wiping the rose lip stain from Christopher’s lips lightly. “There, no harm done.” She announced, replacing the handkerchief in her bag. “Shall we go?” Valentine asked expectantly. Christopher nodded. Maddie appeared quite unexpectedly with a dark gray evening wrap for Valentine. Christopher advised he would not be needing an overcoat this evening, placing the silk and satin tophat upon his head.  
“Good evening, Maddie! Don’t wait up.” Valentine called as she giggled a bit as they exited the flat. Maddie giggled to herself as she decided to retire for the evening.   
Valentine was elated when saw the horse-drawn hansom cab waiting for them. “I had thought of taking the underground Tube Macmaster was raving about, but I thought…” Christopher spoke as he helped his ladylove in into the cab, climbing in after her, “this is much more…intimate…for a romantic evening.” Valentine smiled at his courteous.   
“I’d kiss you right now, but I fear I will run out of lip stain before the end of the evening.” Christopher’s deep laugh at her comment could be heard as the cab rode towards Leicester Square.  
Three hours later, having had dinner at Claridge’s and seen a wonderfully entertaining play, Pygmalion, without incident, Christopher and Valentine began to relax a bit about what society might think of them. At first at the play, Valentine thought she saw, and heard, people whispered and looking in their direction. However, she remembered what Marie had told her…”don’t play their game.” So she forgot about everything around her except Christopher and the play.  
They decided to make an appearance at Macmaster’s. They both agreed it was the least they could do in light of the wonderful theatre tickets. And Valentine was anxious to see Edith again. She missed her, and she had been the one to tell her that Christopher was back. If it hadn’t been for Edith, Valentine may not have been able to reach out to Christopher. Who knows what may have happened at that point. As the rode in silence, Christopher suddenly remembered the item he had placed in his pocket earlier in the evening. He had meant to give it to Valentine at the flat, but the her appearance in her gorgeous dress had made him totally forget about the small gift.  
“Damn it.” Christopher whispered annoyed. Valentine looked at him with concern.  
“What is it?” Valentine queried. Christopher turned Valentine, taking her hand. He looked down and saw the white satin gloves. Bugger it, Christopher thought. He had hoped to just slip the gift on her finger, but the gloves would not allow it. Valentine witnessed his face fall slightly in disappointment.  
“Darling?”  
“Valentine, you have made me so happy these past months. I am a whole man again. And although we cannot be wed before the eyes of society, I believe the good Lord brought us together. Kept me alive through the war so we could be together.” Christopher announced as Valentine listened intently as he pulled a small object from his dress coat pocket. “When I saw this, after my mother passed, I knew one day I would give it to you.” Christopher placed a beautiful small silver and platinum garnet ring with small diamonds encircling it, into Valentine gloved palm. “Please say you will wear it, as a symbol of my love for you now and for all eternity?” Christopher asked, closing her small hand around his gift.  
“Oh, Christopher. It’s absolutely gorgeous.” Valentine cried, opening her hand and gazed at the ring and its fine filigree details on the each side of the setting. It must be very expensive, she thought, she wasn’t sure if it was right for her to wear it. But she decided it would be worse to reject it. “I love it. And I will wear it, because it will always remind me of this night. Thank you.” Christopher nodded in acknowledgement, tipping his had slightly.   
“Oh, no!” Valentine cried. Christopher looked at her expectantly. “I am wearing these infernal gloves and if I put the ring on, no one will see it.” Valentine stated making a pout with her lips. Christopher reached across and took the glove off her left hand.   
“It matters not to me if it can be seen. Just that you wear it.” Christopher spoke earnestly as he slipped the small ring on her third finger on her left hand. Valentine smiled, replaced the glove as they arrived at Macmaster’s.  
*************************  
Macmaster’s home was a din of activity. As Christopher and Valentine made their way into the parlor, Vincent Macmaster greeted them both warmly.  
“Chrissie!” Macmaster shouted as he shook his friend’s hand.  
“Evening, Vinnie.” Christopher reverted to his friend’s first name only occasionally.  
“Valentine, you are a vision.” Macmaster noted Valentine’s attire and blush upon her cheeks as he embraced her.  
“Thank you.” Valentine responded. While Edith had been Valentine’s friend once, she had not known Mr. Macmaster very well. And she was technically employed by them once, so his informality toward her was a bit unnerving.  
Macmaster ushered them into the party, many of the rooms were becoming overly hot, and so the windows had been opened to allow some cool air in. Valentine and Christopher saw the mass of people about. Valentine was unsure who was friend or foe; however, Christopher scanned the room looking for any signs of concern. Seemed Macmaster had been right about who would be at the party. Christopher relaxed a bit, and ushered Valentine to a seat nearby. Macmaster suddenly appeared with two glasses of champagne. Valentine and Christopher accepted them graciously. At the same moment, Macmaster began to pull Christopher away from Valentine toward a group of older men standing in a group off to the side. Christopher started to object, looking back at Valentine. Then Edith appeared before Valentine.  
“Valentine!” Edith exclaimed. “It had been too long since we last saw each other.” Valentine watched as Christopher was helplessly pulled to the men’s group, when she smiled at him reassuringly. She could handle Edith Macmaster.   
Christopher looked back at Valentine and saw her smile. She was okay. Besides Edith was with her. They could talk and catch up. Perhaps clear the air regarding their disagreement they had. Christopher started to relax as the men began to discuss the war, politics, and a whole bevy of subjects Christopher knew Valentine would be equality interested in.  
Edith waiting expectantly for Valentine’s reply to her comment about it being too long since they had last seen each other. “Yes it has been too long.” Valentine replied, Edith’s concerned face draining away to a smiling one. “I believe the last time we saw each other you accused me of bearing Christopher’s illegitimate child.” Valentine stated quite blandly.  
“I..I..I’m sorry Valentine. Truly.” Edith stammered as Valentine, her one-time friend, looked at her expectantly, sipping her champagne slowly. “What I said wasn’t right. I know that. That’s why haven’t reached out, I was so ashamed at my behavior.” As you should be, Valentine thought.  
“That..that’s why I called you when I saw Christopher had come home. I knew you would want to see him.” Edith spoke quickly and rapidly, watching Valentine. “Oh do please accept my apology. I want us to be friends.” Valentine’s resolve softened a bit.   
“I forgive you, Edith.” And her and Valentine embraced. Christopher witnessed the exchange, and was happy things had worked themselves out.  
The night went on splendidly. Many of the ladies were questioning Valentine about her dressmaker. There was laughing and drinking, Valentine and Christopher were having a dandy time. Valentine had removed her gloves at some point and many around her commented on her ring. Valentine was nonchalant about it, but everyone knew who gave it to her.   
At one point, a photographer moved about offering photos for 50 pence. A tidy sum, but one that Christopher felt was worth to commemorate the evening. The photograph suggested this pose and that. Finally, they decided on a pose where both of them would look at each other rather than the camera. The photographer was impressed, he advised that the processed picture, and if there were no issues with the photograph would be sent to their flat in a day or two. However, payment was due now.  
At one point, Valentine boldly made her way to the group of men still chatting by the fireplace, while the ladies had exited to the parlor to escape the heat. The men remain content to remain where they were.  
“Well, I think it atrocious. It’s bad enough women over 30 have the vote. Now they can represent us in Parliament!” A crusty older man announced as Valentine walked up. The comment made the hackles on Valentine’s back stand on end, if she had hackles, Valentine thought amusingly. Christopher acknowledged her arrival with a slight nod.   
“Well, women do typically comprise more than 50% of Britain’s population, and given the effects of the war, I dare say they now hold a rather large majority. So it would seem that if only by necessity, due to the lack of available men, women would have to step in to take their place.” Christopher commented, sipping is third whiskey for the night. He glanced to Valentine who listened intently as the conversation progressed.  
“Yes but the Dilution Agreement states these women who need to step up due to the war, but relinquish their positions once the war is over, but some refuse to do so.” Noted another man about Christopher’s age smoking a cigar. “Damn bloody nonsense.”  
“Well why should they relinquish what they have proven capable of doing?” Valentine questioned to the man as he puffed on his cigar. Christopher smiled and waited a moment, the man said nothing. “Two million women have arisen to the occasion to support this great nation, their fathers, brothers, husbands, and lovers so they could fight. And you would tell them to revert back to a traditional line of thinking barring women from their fundamental right to gender equality?” The men stood agape at Valentine’s comments. Without another word, Valentine walked away, a slight smile on her lips as she realized she had won the argument.  
Christopher had decided to gather up Valentine and return to the flat. The night had been wonderful and it was getting late. Christopher turned to leave the main party in search of Valentine. And then Christopher saw her.  
“Christ, Sylvia.” He whispered in horror. Sylvia walked into the room like a woman on a mission. And in deed she was on a mission. Her latest catch, or man, was walking drunkenly beside her, acting like a fool. Christopher could tell she was not happy. What on earth is she doing here? Christopher thought. And then, Sylvia spotted Christopher. She sauntered over to him as he stood up to his full height. He was not prepared this night for an altercation. Casually he looked about for Valentine. He hoped she would miss all of this.  
“Darling! What an extraordinary coincidence. Meeting you here.” Sylvia stated with honey sweetness.   
“Sylvia.” Was all he could muster without snarling? Sylvia scanned the room, and then looked at Christopher, literally devouring him with her eyes.  
“Here alone?” Sylvia asked slyly, watching Christopher closely for his response. Just as he was about to speak, Christopher noticed Valentine enter the room, arm-in-arm with Edith, who was laughing. Valentine sees Sylvia and rages in anger. She yanks her arm from Edith. This was set up! She looked to Edith, who seemed equally horrified by the impending exchange at her supper party. Seeing Edith reaction, Valentine decides to deal with her later, gracefully walking toward Sylvia and Christopher. Sylvia noticing Christopher distraction turns to see Valentine.  
“Not here alone, I see. But why would you be, right?” Sylvia stated annoyed. Valentine walked around Sylvia to stand next to Christopher, her right hand slowly reaching to hold Christopher’s left hand. Sylvia watched as Christopher softly gripped with silent strength his mistress’s hand. Sylvia’s eyes scanned the young woman. No longer looking like a girl guide, are we, Sylvia thought. Sylvia noticed the garnet ring on Valentine’s left and she almost broke the ivory fan gripped in her hands. It was all too much for Sylvia.  
“I was not aware you were in London. Is Michael with you?” Christopher asked curiously, hoping his son was close by so he could go see him.  
“I love your dress, Miss Wannop. Stunning. Is it CF Worth? Yes, I remember seeing it in the catalogue, like a season ago. Very expensive dress, Christopher must be keeping you in grand style.” Sylvia laid her traps easily for Valentine, ignoring Christopher all together. “From what I hear, you are keeping him up in grand style.” Sylvia laughed. Neither Valentine nor Christopher took the bait. The room had fallen to a hush, all eyes upon him.  
“I believe Christopher asked you a question, Mrs. Tietjens.” Valentine had to not gag on calling her Mrs. Tietjens. She should be Mrs. Tietjens, not her.  
“Oh, the boy. Of course not! Why would I ever bring him here to London?” Sylvia answered in a flippant tone.  
Christopher’s shoulders seem to slump a bit at the realization Michael was not with Sylvia. He knew it was unlikely, but had hoped she would bring him just to flaunt him at Christopher. Christopher looked down at Valentine, a light squeeze to her hand signaling he was leaving. She nodded softly, then eyeing with deadly intent the ruination of their wonderful night. Sylvia watched in stunned silence as Christopher and Valentine slowly exited the part.  
In the foyer of Macmaster’s home, Christopher helped Valentine into her wrap. They were only a few yards away from their own home, so he had let the hansom cab driver leave for the evening. 

“Chrissie! Chrissie! I had no idea she was coming tonight.” Macmaster pleaded, Christopher looking solemnly at the top of the stairs where Sylvia stood peering down at him like a predator.  
“What about Edith? You said this was her idea.” Valentine asked pointedly. She knew Edith had become a social-climbing harpy, but she never imagined she would do this.  
“I swear to you. Edith is the bedroom sobbing because of what’s happened. She doesn’t know how Sylvia discovered. She never dreamed she would even come if she did find out. Sylvia hates Edith.” Macmaster explained.  
“It’s alright, ol’ man. Thank Edith for the wonderful evening.” Christopher ushered Valentine into the night air. He looked up at Sylvia, tipping his top hat slightly in silent good riddance.  
Christopher and Valentine walked the few yards to their flat. The night was wonderfully cool, and Valentine was still overwrought with emotion from their confrontation with Sylvia. The walked in silence. Christopher was not sure what to say.  
The arrived at the flat. It was warm and silent inside. A bit too warm, perhaps too quiet. Valentine walked up the stairs, with Christopher following quickly behind. It was stuffy upstairs, and Valentine moved to open the three windows in the bedroom. After she opened one, Christopher came into the bedroom from the adjoin dressing room, seeing her struggle with the second.  
“Let me….” He announced as she opened the window without effort, and then the next. The half-moon light streamed in through the windows along with cool breezes. The streets were silent expect for a lone cab or motorcar that passed by.  
Valentine slowly began undress. She removed her shoes, pearl pins from her hair, although it was still be held by others. Christopher for his part was changed into his pajamas and dressing gown in less time. Valentine hearing is slightly inebriated shuffling bare feet on the hard floor. Even though the night had ended not as well as she would have liked, it was still a wonderful night. She gazed at her beautiful ring and sighed.   
Valentine struggled with the hooks on the back of her dress. Christopher seeing her starting to struggle walked to her to assist. He stood behind her by her ladies wardrobe slowly unhooking the back of the dress. Christopher could smell her fresh scent, a light citrusy aroma, like sunlight. Her scent never failed to excite him. Christopher finished unhooking the dress. It hung loosely upon Valentine soft, petite shoulders. The flower gone and her hair still up exposed her long graceful neck to Christopher.   
Taking the lead, Christopher moved forward slightly, reaching to slide the arms of the dress off Valentine’s shoulders. Valentine was forced to step backward out of the dress as Christopher held it up and away. It was a beautiful dress and he did want to see it damaged. Valentine in her silk camisole, long silk knickers, and silk stockings that he knew were being held by garters around her upper thighs. Christopher began by feathering light kisses on Valentine’s neck and shoulders. Valentine held the dress before her, her head lulling back against Christopher.  
“Put the dress away. Come to bed.” Christopher whispered, leaving her to do just that. Valentine’s hands shook with anticipation of their lovemaking. But tonight, she would try something new. When she had been with Marie on her day of shopping for tonight, Marie was quite plain spoken about the art of love. Valentine had told Marie she was well aware of the art of love through Dr. Stopes book. Marie had just laughed. Telling her if she wanted a clinical dissection of act of procreation then Dr. Stopes is excellent. But if she wanted to really understand the art of love, Marie told her to where to look. But in the meantime, Marie asked a few questions about Christopher, which frankly embarrassed Valentine.  
“What type of lover is he?” Maria asked softly, seeing Valentine’s unease. “Is he gentle, forceful, demanding?”   
“He is very gentle, kind. He never demands. And he isn’t forceful….except….” Valentine spoke nervously.  
“Except when he is inside you, correct?” Marie asked casually.  
“Yes. But he’s not rough or angry. He just sometimes loses control a bit.”  
“Ahh. That is good. A passionate man. Like my Mark.” Marie winked at Valentine knowingly.  
“What positions has he taken you in?” Marie asked pointedly.  
“Positions?” Valentine asked.  
“My god, you have only made love in one way?” Marie questioned incredulously. Valentine wasn’t aware there was other positions. Dr. Stopes had noted there was, but she had not given any specifics. Valentine was going to ask Christopher when the time was right, but they seemed to be enjoying what they doing now, that she didn’t see the need. Marie the proceed to tell her all manner of ways to make love.   
“Ways, my dear that your pretty suffragette heart will love and make you and your lover soar to new heights.” Valentine did not believe it possible that there were ways her and Christopher could soar higher when loving each other. But she wanted to find out.  
Valentine removed her camisole and long knickers. She decided to leave the silk stockings with the garters on under her pretty silk nightgown and negligee; another purchase Christopher had not seen yet.  
Valentine re-entered the bedroom. Christopher was waiting in bed, the pillows up behind his head. Valentine paused in the doorway. Marie had told her to move slowly, let him see you. Want you. Valentine had not played the seducer yet in their relationship, but she liked the way it was feeling so far. Christopher sat up in the bed, his pajamas still on, watching her. Good, Valentine thought, she can undress him too.  
Oh, god. A vision. Christopher watched as Valentine stood by the open window, the cool breeze lightly swirling her nightgown and negligee around her body. The cool breeze had caused her nipples to tighten and he could see the decedent evidence of her aroused body from where he sat. The moonlight made her nightgown almost diaphanous, he could see her body, and he could see the garters and the silk stockings she still wore. Where the garters red? Christopher thought. Slowly, she started to move forward. She pulled the pins one by one from her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders. How he wished he could have pulled those pins himself. Valentine placed the pins in a small dish on the vanity. Then slowly slipped the negligee from her bare shoulders, pooling on the floor, further exposing her body to the moonlight and his eyes.   
Valentine walked softly around the bed. Christopher followed her with his eyes. She could see the desire in them. His smile told her he was enjoying her little display. She walked around to his side of the bed. He still said nothing, although she could see his curiously. Christopher moves so his legs were hanging over the side of the bed, facing Valentine. Valentine moved forward between his knees, as she started to unbutton his pajama top. Christopher began to lightly stroke Valentine’s waist, hip, thigh through the lovely nightgown. For her part, as Valentine would release each button, she would expose more and more over Christopher’s chest, placing kisses and nip there. Christopher, for his part, leaned back a bit allowing Valentine greater access to his body. She had never been this forward, although she like to touch his naked body, she never used her mouth this much. Valentine could feel Christopher’s erection against her belly. It made her stomach quiver with anticipation.   
Christopher moved his arms slowly to move them from the arms of the pajama top Valentine had just expertly removed from his body. She continued to kiss, massage, and caress his chest. When she started to lap and suck at a nipple, he threw his head back in ecstasy, threading his hand into her hair as she continued to torture him with her mouth.  
Valentine knew it was time. Christopher was ready. She stood before him and kissed him deeply. “Lie back, in the middle of the bed.” Valentine requested. Christopher relented willingly. Slowly Valentine climbed up onto the bed. Valentine reached for the ties on Christopher’s pajama bottoms, pulling them down his long legs and exposing his manhood to her. He was fully aroused by everything she was going so far, so she trusted her instincts.   
That was what Marie had ultimately told her, follow her instincts and do what feels right and good. Forget proper, it wasn’t a game of chess; it was a game of tennis, with two people giving and receiving their best.   
Valentine knelt on the bed, straddling Christopher’s legs. Christopher’s breathing was ragged, and his eyes hooded as he watched Valentine. Unwilling to wait any longer, Christopher sat up pulling Valentine to him, kissing her passionately. His hands were everywhere at once. Riding up her thigh, molding her buttocks gently with his strong hands. Christopher moved to her neck, shoulders, kissing biting, she did the same to him. The nightgown was a barrier to him, but he used it to his advantage, palming Valentine’s breast, feeling the silk slip and slide against her skin and his. Making her moan with pleasure. Christopher pulled her body up closer to him as he suckled her nipple through the silk fabric. The wetness making the fabric translucent. Valentine grasped his head to her, threading her hands into his hair, throwing her head back in pleasure.  
Christopher had to have her. He wanted the nightgown gone. He gathered the fabric in his hands and gently pulled the wonderfully offending garment over Valentine’s head. She was left in her silk stockings, held in place by her red garters at the tops of her thighs. Upon seeing the garters, Christopher cock hardened a bit more at the sight.   
“They are red.” Christopher smiled, whispering seductively. Valentine pulled his face to hers and began a deep kissing, love making with their mouths session as to not to be believed. At one point, Christopher wanted to roll over, putting himself on top, not wanting to postpone their release any longer. But Valentine had other plans.  
Valentine scooted back out of Christopher’s arms. Not waiting for a chance to change her mind she slowing reached down and touched her lover’s cock, stroking it softly. She had done this before, the very first night in fact, but now she decided she would taste him as well. Valentine moved slowly down, looking at Christopher as she moved. He seemed to know what she was going to do, and his hands gripped the bedclothes in desperation and to control his burning arousal. No one had ever done that to him before, although he was aware it was done and how. Slowly he watched as Valentine wrapped her mouth around him. Christopher groaned in delight. As she moved her mouth in unison with her hand, Christopher moaned and growled in pleasure, the sweat beading on his chest and thighs. He did not want to disgrace himself. He begged Valentine to stop. She did, for she too wanted to find her release. Her body thrummed with arousal at his pleasure and her power to give him that pleasure. So this is what Cleopatra had done to bring the two most powerful men in the world, Caesar and Antony, to their knees. Feminism in its top form, Valentine though for a moment watching Christopher’s breathing go back to normal.   
Naked and powerful, Valentine decided she would take her pleasure from her lover and bring him the greatest joy he has ever know possible. Valentine crawled up Christopher’s body, her hair trailing a path as she placed soft kisses and playful licks to a different place on his body. Christopher rose to his elbows watching her. Sitting up he brought her with him, gazing into Valentine’s hungry, enthusiastic eyes. She wanted him and he wanted her. Christopher’s hand traced the curve of her face, the line of her shoulder, the fullness of her breast, before lightly gripping each of Valentine’s silk covered thighs. Valentine straddled his hips, feeling his manhood at her wet entrance. Her body ached to feel him inside her. Christopher eyed her questioning. She moved her hips a faction, his manhood brushing her entrance and send shockwaves through her body. Christopher understood then.  
“All right my vixen.” Christopher stated as he reached between them, adjusting himself to enter her. His manhood entered her smoothly due to her readiness for him. Christopher moved once, then twice, helped guide Valentine, encouraging her to move, finding the right rhythm. After a few unsure moments, Valentine started to move, without Christopher’s help. The feelings radiating through her were hard to describe. She was both fluid and form; she did not know feeling like this existed. Slowly, Christopher laid back, allowing Valentine to ride him. This was no rough tumble; it was a sensuous ride of discovery. Christopher held back a long time, allowing Valentine to set the pace. He could feel, see and hear her climax building, his own carefully controlled as he waited for her. As the pressure built and the pleasure, Christopher’s heels of his feet dug into the mattress in attempt to control his raging arousal and climax. But soon he could feel it.  
“Valentine, oh god, yes, yes, yes” Christopher growled, lurching up and pulling Valentine to him in frantic need, thrusting into Valentine once and twice as he felt himself climax deep inside her body.   
“Oh! OHhh! Ahhhhh! More, more.” Valentine called softly feeling her climax come moments after Christopher and melting against him. Valentine could feel his manhood throbbing deep inside. How she hoped they could do this again very soon.


	8. Everything is Going to be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May/June 1919

The loud wheezing of a child struggling to breath could be heard down the hallway. Marchant, or Marchie as she was known to the family, walked quickly toward the room, her haggard face and untidy hair the only indication of her ongoing distress. The doctor had arrived late in the night after Michael’s breathing had worsened.   
It had been over a week since Mrs. Tietjens had left for London. She had advised the household she was going to collect her husband since he had failed to respond to any of her pleas to return to Groby due to Michael’s continued illness. Marchant did not like the woman, and she knew that if Mr. Tietjens knew Michael was sick he would have been up to Groby straight away. However, Marchie remained because of Michael, and because she was loyal to both the Tietjens family and to Mr. Christopher. She had been Christopher’s nurse and nanny since he was born. Her loyalty to him was without question. That is why she stayed on through everything. She knew he needed her to watch over Michael. She had seen the terrible woman treat Christopher abominably over the years, but Mr. Christopher never wavered in his love for his son. Christopher was so sentimental about the boy, more so than was considered acceptable for a Yorkshire man.   
Marchie waited at the foot of the bed as the doctor examined Michael. His high fever was most distressing to her before, now with the wheezing coming from him, she feared the worst. If pneumonia settled into the young boy’s lungs, Michael would have to be moved to a hospital, the doctor informed Marchie. The word hospital caused Marchie to gasp.   
“Is there anything we can do to prevent it?” Marchie inquired desperately.  
“His fever needs to be lowered. And he needs rest and plenty of fluids. Here.” The doctor handed Marchie some liquid laudanum. Wicked stuff, Marchie thought. “Give him spoonful of this three times a day. Also, try to get him to eat something, even if it is just a broth.” The doctor began packing his things into his bag. “When will the lord and lady be returning to Groby?” the doctor inquired, having noticed the peculiar absence of the boy’s parents since he had come a few days ago. “I assumed they would have returned by now.”  
“Aye. We thought the same. But for some reason we have been unable to reach Mrs. Tietjens.” Marchie responded honestly.  
“Well, you might want to find them soon. I fear the boy may get worse without proper medical care, and a nanny is unable to grant me permission to admit him to hospital if needed.” The doctor looked pointedly at Marchie. He bore no ill will toward the woman, for she seemed genuinely distressed over her charge’s illness and confused by her employer’s absence. The doctor patted Marchie’s stooped shoulder reassuringly as he exited the sick room.  
The telephone began to ring loudly at two in the morning inside the ultra quiet flat at Gray’s Inn. It rang four times and then was quiet again. A moment or two passed, and the telephone began to ring again. Maddie opened her door to her first floor room, rushing to put on her dressing gown and pick up the infernal machine making all the racket.  
Christopher and Valentine lay asleep in their bedroom, the windows half open to let in the night air. They were dressed in their typical sleepwear, Christopher in his striped pajamas and Valentine in a cotton nightgown that came to just below the knee. Valentine was curled up next to Christopher, while he was on his back, his head turned towards Valentine, and his hand holding hers upon his chest. A soft knock came from the bedroom door; neither Christopher nor Valentine heard it. Another knock, a bit louder, and the door peeked open. Maddie was unsure if she should enter their bedchamber. . She saw the intimate position he and Valentine were in, which made Maddie long for her dead husband. She did not want to be improper, but this was an emergency. She did not know whom she should awake first. She decided to wake Mr. Tietjens.  
“Mr. Tietjens?” Maddie called softly, “Mr. Tietjens, sir? Do please wake up.” Maddie spoke quietly next to the bed. Valentine stirred a bit first, but then Christopher’s eyes slowly opened and looked at Maddie with confusion.  
“Mr. Tietjens, you must come quick there is a phone call for you.” Maddie whispered with some urgency. Valentine’s head came up finally registering there was someone in the room.  
Christopher sat up slightly to clear his head, Maddie backed up a bit, drawing her dressing gown tighter about her and looking away from her employer’s state of dress. Christopher shrugged his dressing gown on, tying the sash, following Maddie down the stairs.  
“Her name is Marchie, says she……..” Maddie mentioned as she gained the bottom step of the stairs. With this information, Christopher sprang to life, his measured sleepy steps now an urgent march to the where the telephone receiver lay waiting.  
“Marchie?” Christopher paused as Marchie thanked the lord he was home and apologized for calling so late. Well of course, I am home, where else would I be, Christopher thought as he tried to reassure his former nanny. Christopher knew there was only one reason Marchie would be calling him this late at night, Michael. “It’s alright Marchie, please calm down. Now tell me what’s happened. Is Michael hurt?” As Christopher listened in horror to Marchie, tell him about Michael illness, Valentine appeared at the bottom of the stairs, sleepy and confused. Maddie stood nearby, wringing her hands with concern as she watch Mr. Tietjens listen and murmur quietly as the woman on the phone spoke. For a while, Christopher said nothing, just listened, at times taking deep breaths. Valentine just waited, having no idea what was happening. Suddenly, Valentine noticed Christopher’s hands were shaking. She rose and walked to him, but he started to speak.  
“Thank you, Marchie. Yes. Yes. I will be there quickly as I can. Thank you for calling and telling me.” Christopher rubbed his eyes in agitation and fear. Valentine, upon hearing Groby and Marchie, knew that the emergency must involve Michael. She covered her mouth with both her hands in fear of the worst. “I will be on the next train to Groby. I should be there before the afternoon. Good bye.” Christopher placed the telephone receiver to the cradle. Valentine rushed to him.  
“What’s happened? Is Michael alright?” Valentine asked desperately.  
“Michael is ill. Apparently he has been ill for quite some time it seems.”  
“What?!” Valentine exclaimed. All Valentine could think about is the fact that less than week ago she had been seen at the London Opera House. She seemed intent on staying in London for the remainder of the season if the newspapers quoted her correctly. Valentine thought back to the evening at Macmaster’s party two months ago. How dare she leave her son while he is sick to come and party in London?  
“I am going to pack my things to leave on the first train out of Paddington Station. I believe there is a train that leaves at 7am.” Christopher began to walk toward the stairs.  
“I’ll get the ‘paper from yesterday sir that should have the schedules in it.” Maddie offered kindly, sprinting off in her dressing and nightgown to the kitchen area.  
“Thank you, Maddie.” Christopher stated as he took Valentine’s hand in his to walk up the stairs.

“How long has he been ill?” Valentine inquired as a now fully clothed Christopher packed a few items into a medium satchel.  
“Three weeks, although Marchie tells me that he has only gotten worse in the last week or so.” Christopher jammed another item in the satchel, a little too forcefully out of anger at his wife.  
Valentine, trying to sooth her lover, stroked his arm softly. “It will alright, Christopher.” Valentine nodding softly.  
“How could she do it, Valentine? How could she leave him there, alone, in the care of servants when he is obviously not well?” Christopher asked angrily. He had never been violent towards women, but at that point he could have been violent to his wife had she been in the room.  
“Darling. Go to Michael. Everything will be all right. And then come home.” Valentine whispered as she kissed him sweetly, soothing his fevered state. Christopher started to calm down a bit, the breathing becoming less rushed.  
Christopher alighted onto the 7:00 train to Leicester. All he could think about as he traveled the hundred or so miles to Leicester was Michael. It had been so long since he had seen him, talked with him. It made his heart ache to think he had been sick for so long and Christopher had not been there to comfort him. Worse yet his bitch of a mother had left him when he was obvious more sick that before. He hated Sylvia before this, but now he more than hated her. Hated her more than the Keiser and the war combined. He had not thought it possible.  
He arrived at Goby before the afternoon as promised. Marchie greeted him on the steps of Groby, embracing him almost desperately.   
“Oh, Mr. Christopher, thank god you are here.” Marchie stated, worrying the worn handkerchief in her hand. Seeing her worry and anxiety, he reached out to cover her hand with his in reassurance.  
“It is going to be alright, Marchie.” Christopher stated, echoing his lovely Valentine’s words. Her face filled his mind and he was ready to face whatever came at him. Christopher entered the family home for the first time since he had confronted Sylvia about the tree. It didn’t seem to have changed much, but then Sylvia did not spend that much time here it seemed. Christopher removed his coat and hat, handing it to Grayson, the family butler, who also seemed relieved to see him. Christopher marched up the stairs straight towards the nursery.   
As Christopher heard his son before he saw him. He entered in Michael’s room, turning to see his son lying in the bed. His breath caught at the sight of the terribly frail and sickly little boy that lay among the pillows and blankets. Without hesitation, Christopher moved to the bed, kneeling beside it quietly. The boy did not stir when he approached. The skin was so deathly pale, his eyes sunken in, his lips dry. Christopher’s resolve began to crumble at the unfortunate state of his young son. Christopher gently wrapped his arms around the boy, lifting him to his chest, sobbing softly.  
“Oh my boy. My poor, poor boy.” Christopher wept, rocking his son’s limp fevered body back and forth. Marchie for her part kept watch at the door to ensure no one disturbed Mr. Christopher. Her former charge’s love for his son was unique. She had watched Christopher grow into a fine young man, his mother’s pride and joy. Many in the family, including his father and half-brother thought him soft. However, Marchie saw it differently; there was an inner strength to Christopher that belied his softness toward his child. A few moments went by, and Christopher started to examine his young son in earnest.  
“When was the doctor here last?” Christopher asked, slowly uncovering the boy’s body from the heavy blankets.  
“Night before last. Do you want me to fetch him again?” Marchie asked as she watch Christopher.  
“Yes. Did he prescribe anything for the fever?” Christopher asked expectantly.  
“Yes, laudanum. Wicked stuff.” Marchie made a face of disgust, equaling Christopher’s.  
“Damn fool. We have to get his fever down Marchie. Here help me with his clothes.” And with that Christopher pulled his coat off to start to nurse his sickly son. That is what greeted the shire doctor as he entered the sick room. Christopher Tietjens, 13th Lord of Groby, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he cared for his young son. After much discussion, the doctor advised that if the fever started to come down, the prognosis would be much better. Christopher asked the doctor what the illness was, and the doctor indicated that it was mostly likely Spanish Flu, given the severity of the symptoms. The Spanish Flu was wreaking havoc in the Americas, he had read it in the paper over the past few months. He wondered where Christopher could have been in contact with someone from America. Then he realized that Sylvia’s latest fling was an American man. A potential source, but nothing could be pinpointed. It was of no matter; all that matter was that Michael was well.  
Three days went by and Michael started to slowly improve. His fever lessened, but it did not go away. A week later, he opened his eyes for the first time. When he saw this father there, sleeping in the overstuffed chair by the bed, he called to him.  
“Daddy?” Michael whispered hoarsely. Christopher groggily sat up at the sound. He looked to his son, whose eyes gazed at him with happy yet sick eyes.  
“Is it really you? Are you really here?” Michael asked hopefully. Christopher moved forward to take his son in his arms gently. “Yes. Yes. My son. I am here. I am here.” Christopher sobbed quietly. Weakly Michael wrapped his arms around his weeping father. “It’s alright, Daddy. Everything is going to be all right.” Christopher held his son a little bit tighter and sobbed a bit more. 

Valentine waited for the doctor to return to his office. She had been feeling unwell for the past few weeks, and given the information had been hearing from Christopher about Michael’s condition she decided to see a doctor. Dr. Foster had helped her mother through a bad spell when they first moved to London, so she felt comfortable going to him. He had examined her, but could not find any outward signs of infection or maladies. The doctor entered his office, sitting at his desk, smiling at her.  
“Miss Wannop, I can find no issues. You are the picture of health.” He announced brightly. Valentine smiled, but still felt troubled by her ongoing feelings of being unwell.  
“Given that fact and your insistence that you continue to feel unwell, I am going to have to ask you some rather indelicate questions.” Valentine was a bit surprised, but understood that as a doctor he needed to sometimes ask questions that might normally be improper.  
“Are you sexually active?” Dr. Foster asked directly. Valentine eyes must have widened a bit at his question, since Dr. Foster chuckled softly. “You don’t’ have to answer Miss Wannop, I think I know the answer. You would not be the first young woman I have seen, especially since the war ended, having become sexually active prior to marriage.”  
“Yes. I am….sexually active.” Valentine felt a blush creep up her cheeks.   
“Right. Well, when was your last menstrual cycle?” The doctor picked up his pencil, waiting for Valentine to answer.  
“Ummm, I think it was about a month…no wait, no….two… months ago.” Valentine responded her mind whirling at what was happening and starting to realize.  
“Two months. And have you been feeling unwell the entire time?”  
“No. Just in the last few weeks, about three, maybe four weeks.” Valentine recounted how she was sick to her stomach most mornings, but was fine by the time she dressed.   
“You said you had tenderness around your breasts.” The doctor read from their earlier discussion. Valentine had thought the worst, but the doctor ruled that out during the examination. Now it was all making sense, Valentine joyously realized.   
“Well, Miss Wannop, I unfortunately need to advise that all signs point to the fact that…”  
“You’re pregnant.” “I’m pregnant.” They both announced in unison. Valentine was breathless as she thought it through. She smiled brightly, closing her eyes in silent prayer.  
“I take it that this is something that you are happy about.” Dr. Foster stated, noting her bright smile.  
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Valentine announced. The doctor looked at her gravely, standing to walk around his desk. He sat in the chair opposite Valentine and looked at her earnestly.  
“Miss Wannop, I have seen a lot of young women come in here, happy for their condition, only to discover their beau is not as keen as they are about becoming a parent.” Valentine listened respectfully, knowing he was speaking from experience.  
“You know that you have no legal protection by being pregnant without the benefit of marriage. My suggestion is to get married as soon as possible to avoid any complications. Being an unmarried woman with a child can be a hard life. Of course, you can also give your child to an orphanage when it is born if things do not work out.”  
Valentine was shocked at the doctor’s insinuation that Christopher would not want this child. Of course, Valentine had to concede that the good doctor had probably seen young women just like her come to him with the same thoughts, only to find out otherwise when they are too far along to do anything about it.  
“I understand, Dr. Foster. Thank you. Can you give me any information on what I can expect in the coming months?” Valentine asked cheerily. The doctor nodded his approval to listening to him about her options. Most young girls just stormed out in a huff that he was wrong about her man. Miss Wannop seemed different. He started to explain how her body would start to change, and gave her a fine clinical book for her to read, which delighted Valentine. She could not wait to tell Christopher, she was sure he would be elated at the news of their impending child.

Michael was much better two weeks after Christopher arrived at Groby. His fever had passed and now he was eating copious amounts of food, which the doctor agreed as a very good sign. In the time Christopher was at Groby, he had reunited with his son on so many levels. He was unsure how he would leave him again, here at Groby. The boy seemed terrified his father was going to leave him again. Christopher’s heart was torn. Valentine was waiting for him in London. He thought he might move them to Leicester so he could be closer to Michael. However, knowing Sylvia, she would just move the household and Michael to London out of spite.   
The entire two weeks Christopher had been at Groby there been no calls, no telegrams, no communications whatsoever from Sylvia. Christopher called Valentine often, but during the height of his sickness; he often would not call for days. He knew Valentine was concerned, but she also understood the situation. Once the worst had past, Christopher had called Valentine and they had spoken for almost two hours on the phone. Mostly about Michael’s condition, but also how much they missed each other. Every call after that Valentine seemed to talk about things to keep Christopher’s spirits afloat. She told him about her day, told him jokes she had heard from her friends, and surprised him when she told him she had been out with Edith for lunch. It was all going so well. But now he had to make a decision.  
It was late in the afternoon, Christopher was sitting on the back patio reading the newspaper and having afternoon tea. Michael, still recuperating, was dressed in his pajamas and played with wooden soldiers on the ground, taking in the afternoon air. Christopher always felt it was good to get a bit of Yorkshire air when feeling a bit better after being ill. He watched as Michael played without a care in the world. How he wished his Valentine were here. Christopher heard a commotion from inside Groby, then Sylvia’s shrill voice. Michael heard it too, but made no move to go to his mother.   
“Marchie!” Christopher called. Marchie appeared, knowing intuitively what Christopher needed. She scooped up Michael swiftly and carried him into the house toward the nursery.  
“Go with Marchie, ol’ boy. I will be up shortly to read with you.” Christopher reassured his son who looked a bit anxious.   
Just at that moment, Sylvia exited the house with her fur travel coat on. The shocked expression on her face told him she was surprised to see him. Interesting, Christopher thought.  
“Christopher! You’ve come home!” Sylvia squealed in oversweet delight. She rushed forward to embrace Christopher, who moved to the side avoiding her, but never loosing eye contact.  
“Darling, let me hold you. It’s been so long.” Sylvia entreated. Christopher ignored her and walked back into the house. Sylvia, not to be denied, followed him. Sylvia threw her fur travel coat to the sofa, sauntering into the parlor, where Christopher stood with his hands behind his back, and waiting.  
“So we are to have a battle it seems. Judging by your stance. Did they teach you that in the war?” Sylvia asked snidely. She poured a glass of sherry for herself, glancing at a silent Christopher.   
“Oh, do say something!” Sylvia shouted annoyed at having to wait.  
“Where were you Sylvia?” Christopher asked quietly, lethally. Christopher’s chin flexed a bit waiting for her answer, which there was no answer that would be sufficient to excuse her absence during Michael’s illness.  
“What do you mean, where was I? I was in London. I am sure you saw the papers.” Sylvia answered flippantly, referring to the numerous photos and articles discussing her appearances at several London parties.  
“The staff here at Groby seemed to believe that when Michael became increasingly ill that you told them you were going to fetch me in London. Says you made quite a show of it. Stating that I refused to leave London to see Michael.” Christopher moved forward menacingly, challenging her. “Is that true?”  
“They’re lying. All of them. I shall put them all out on their ear for this indignity. Marchie will be the first go!” Sylvia announced with venom.  
“I am still master of this household, Sylvia! You will NOT be putting anyone out on their ear for doing what was right!” Christopher stated through gritted teeth at a stunned Sylvia.  
“By what right?! Master indeed! You gave up being the master of anything when you took up with your little girl guide.” Sylvia shouted at Christopher.   
“Why is it that I had to find out in the middle of the night that Michael had been ill for weeks, Sylvia, WEEKS from a staff member of this house?” Sylvia was maddened at Christopher’s lack of response to her barb, and dumbfounded by his question.  
“If you had been here, where you belong, you wouldn’t had to wait weeks to find out.” Sylvia stated pointedly.  
“The same could be said of you, ma ’dam.” Christopher stated as he looked condescendingly at Sylvia. “It doesn’t matter.” Christopher announced, placing his hands behind his back again, if only from keeping from choking Sylvia.  
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?” Sylvia asked as she flopped onto the sofa with her sherry.  
“I’ve decided that once Michael is sufficient healed enough to travel, he will leave Groby and return to London with me.” Christopher waited a moment for the outburst. Sylvia glanced up at Christopher and just started to laugh.   
“You won’t take Michael, my darling. For if you do, I will take legal action against you to remove your parental rights. All I have to say is you are not his father.” Christopher’s lip curled up a bit in a sort of snarl at her challenge. “Remember dear, even if you are the 13th Lord of Groby, my pockets are much deeper than yours.” Sylvia toasted him mockingly and sipped her sherry.  
Christopher leaned over Sylvia, invading her personal space, bracing his hands on either side of her body. At first Sylvia thought, oh joy he might kiss me, but the steely look in his eyes told her otherwise.  
“Let me make myself perfectly clear, Mrs. Tietjens. Michael will leave Groby with me when he is better and there is nothing that you or your sycophantic barristers can do about it. Go ahead, wage your legal battle, but I assure you my dear, I have waged war, I have been in real battles, and I know exactly where to hit you first to do the most damage.”  
The blood drained from Sylvia’s face. She had never seen Christopher like this, ever. “You may have deeper pockets, Mrs. Tietjens, but I have a battalion of men that would take no issue bringing each and every one of your lovers of the years before any court of inquiry. Moreover, I assure you they all will sing like nightingales to the court regarding your behavior during our marriage. You see, Sylvia, you deal in rumor, but I deal in fact.” Sylvia was holding her breath as Christopher stood back up looking at her with distain. “Now if you will excuse me, my son and I have an engagement.”  
Sylvia had lost for good the one thing that would keep Christopher in check. He had called her bluff and she had lost. She threw her glass across the room in frustration.  
Within two days, Christopher, Michael, and Marchie were leaving Groby. With Valentine no longer working, Marchie was not really needed in London, but Christopher decided it would be best for her to come along. Her pay was covered by a clause in his father’s will, which Mark oversaw. Besides, Marchie was anxious to be away from Mrs. Tietjens. Christopher left instructions with Grayson that if there were any issues at Groby regarding the staff; he was to call him immediately. Of course, he made it sufficiently clear with his threats that Sylvia was not to anything in retribution against the staff.  
He had spoken to Valentine about Michael coming to London. Valentine was extremely excited, and Christopher asked Valentine to get with Mr. Hollingsworth about furnishing the upstairs bedroom for Michael and the dressing room would need to be converted for a place for Marchie. She told Christopher she would take care of everything and she was so excited to see them all. Valentine had not told Christopher about the baby yet. She wanted to tell him in person. There was just so much happening and she wanted the moment to be right when she did tell him.  
Valentine was waiting at the door when Christopher entered, Michael and Marchie in tow. Valentine was so excited to see her Christopher she had to control herself as she embraced him. He chastely kissed her cheek softly, and she did the same to him. She knew that he was concerned about how Michael would react, but he didn’t seem to notice at all. Valentine greeted Marchie sincerely, introducing her to Maddie. Michael walked into the formal living room immediately. Christopher went to stop him, but Valentine stopped Christopher. Michael walked about looking at the furniture, obviously all new to him. He walked to an end table where he looked at a picture of his father with his fellow soldiers. It had been taken right before they had left for the front. Michael gazed at the picture wondrously.   
“Daddy, may I have this picture?” Michael asked candidly. “Mummy never let me to have a picture of you in your uniform.” Valentine smiled as Christopher stepped into the room to stand by his son. He picked up the picture, glancing at it briefly, and then handing it to his son. “With my compliments.” Christopher stated. The boy ran about with the picture to the stairs, obviously to take the precious gift to his room. When Christopher called to him.  
“Michael, have you forgotten your manners? There is a young lady present and you have not properly introduced yourself.” Christopher admonished lightly as he stood next to Valentine. Valentine smiled luminously as Michael walked to her. He seemed unexcited to greet her, not out of dislike of her, but out of dislike of the greeting properly part.  
“How do you do? I’m Michael Robert Tietjens. What is your name?”  
“My name is Valentine. Valentine Elizabeth Wannop. And I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”  
“Likewise.” Michael stated. He looked to his father curiously, “Is she going to replace Marchie?” His eyes big as saucers out of fear.  
Christopher went to speak, but Valentine crouched down to Michael’s level, smiling gently. “No, Michael, Marchie is not going anywhere.” Michael seemed to be relieved by that part. Valentine smiled again, smoothing Michael’s small suit jacket tenderly.  
“You smile a lot. But I like your smile.” Michael noted honestly, still holding his picture of his father. “What do you do here?” Michael asked harmlessly.  
“Well, I am a special friend to your father.” Valentine explained. All the while, Christopher stood by watching the exchange with a light heart. Yes, Valentine will be so good for Michael, Christopher thought.  
“Are you his mistress?” Michael asked innocently. Valentine paused, keeping her smile bright. Christopher moved forward quietly.  
“Michael, where did you hear that word?” Christopher asked softly.  
“I heard mummy said it, but I don’t know what it means. She said when I heard her describing a girl with light hair living with you.” Michael explained as he was distracted by the picture.  
Valentine glanced over her shoulder, smiling reassuringly to Christopher.  
“Let’s go upstairs and find a place for your new gift in your room.” She took Michael by the hand leading him to the stairs. “I hope you like it; I picked out all the furniture. And I hear you like to read.” Valentine commented as they started up the stairs.  
“Yes, very much so.” Michael answered enthusically.  
“Wonderful. There are all kinds of books in your room that I think you will enjoy.” The conversation continued as they walked up the stairs. As they reached the first landing, Valentine turned and blew a kiss to Christopher.

Later that evening, Valentine was reading in bed, waiting for Christopher. Christopher arrived a half an hour later, looking exhausted. He closed the door to the bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief. He sat at the edge of the bed, removing his slippers and dressing gown. He climbed into bed, wrapping his arms around Valentine.  
“The boy does love to read.” Christopher announced as he nuzzled Valentine’s neck sweetly. “My dear, I know it has been weeks since we have seen each other, but I do not think I could make love to you properly this night.”  
“Perhaps it is I who can make love to you.”  
“Saucy wench.” Christopher growled panther-like.  
“However, I guess there really is no point in making love.” Valentine noted as she picked absently at her cotton nightgown. Christopher was perplexed at her comment.  
“No point? Is there a point in making love other than feeling your entire body burning for mine.” Christopher chuckled as his hand massaged Valentine’s exposed upper thigh. For someone exhausted, he was sure intent on making things happen, Valentine thought.  
“Of course there is a point to making love,” Valentine stated breathlessly as Christopher, nipped and kissed her exposed neck and shoulder. “Children, for one.” Valentine waited for her comment to sink in. Christopher’s kisses and touches paused for a moment, his head coming up. He looked at Valentine, who wore the most cheeky cat-who-eat-the-canary look on her face.   
“So if there is no point, does that mean…” Christopher stated hopefully. Valentine took Christopher’s previously wandering hand and placed it on her still flat belly.  
“I think you have forgotten your manners, Mr. Tietjens. Our baby requires a proper introduction.” Valentine smiled at Christopher’s awestruck face, mimicking Christopher’s guidance to Michael earlier.  
“A child.” Was all he stated as she continued to touch Valentine’s abdomen. “How long?  
“Sometime in January or February, according the doctor.” Valentine states as she placed her hand over his.   
“When? Do you know when you conceived?” Christopher asked wondrously.   
“I can’t be sure since we were, you know, fairly active since you returned from the war. But I want to believe that mayhap it occurred the night of the play.” Christopher’s eyebrow rose questioningly. It was the night Valentine had introduced him to a few new things regarding love.  
“I know, I know. It probably wasn’t, but the timing of when I started to feel ill and such seems to coincide with that night.” Valentine explained. Or the night before, or the night after, Christopher thought laughingly.  
“It doesn’t matter, my love. All that matters is that we are together. All of us.” And with that Christopher leaned over and kissed Valentine’s belly in reverence.


	9. New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July - February 1920

Michael settled in nicely in his new home. After a few days at the flat, Michael had begun to ask about his mother, but seemed unconcerned about the prospect of living without her. The coming weeks were beautiful and joyous time. Autumn in London was a nice respite from the oppressive heat that could become unbearable at times. Valentine, Marchie, and occasionally Maddie, would go into the local parks so Michael could get is restless energy out. Marchie was a bit surprised to see how active Valentine was. Christopher had made Marchie aware of Valentine’s condition a few days after they had arrived in London and he himself had discovered the incredible news. Marchie for her part was accepting, but she was not overly supportive. Christopher understood Marchie’s reluctance; it would take time for Marchie to see Valentine’s gentle and kind nature.   
“Miss Valentine, are you sure you should be scampering about like this. I mean, begging your pardon, but you are in a delicate condition.” Marchie spoke to Valentine who had run up the hill with a ball, her breaths coming in rapid succession.  
“Nonsense, Marchie. I am as fit as a fiddle. I feel wonderful and I have always been very active. Dr. Foster assures me that I should trust my instincts regarding my body’s changes.” Valentine spoke as she watched Michael run back and forth; kicking a ball like Valentine had showed him earlier in the day. Valentine saw the disapproval and concern in Marchie’s eyes; Valentine softened her gaze and spoke kindly as she took Marchie’s gloved hand in reassurance. “I appreciate your concern Marchie. However, I am truly fine.”   
“Aye, miss. But I fear if anything were to happen to you or the child, Mr. Christopher would be beside himself with grief.” Valentine smiled at the concern Marchie expressed for her lover. “He has had so little happiness in his life since he left my care when he was 13 years old. I had hoped that when he married he would find love with his wife, but it was soon clear Sylvia Sattherwaite was only concern about one thing, herself. “Marchie paused, looking downward, gathering her thoughts. “I’m sorry miss. You undoubtedly are aware of all this. It is not proper for me to discuss such things.” Valentine squeezed Marchie’s hand lightly in encouragement.   
“Well, it’s a good thing there is nothing proper about what Christopher and I are doing.” Valentine smiled brightly not waiting for a response as she walked back down the hill shielding her eyes to find where Michael had run off.  
“Oh, Mr. Christopher. Thank god you have found that one.” Marchie quietly spoke and smiled as she watched Valentine snatch up Michael, tickling him mercilessly while he laughed heartily.  
Christopher sat at his deck in the living room, completing entries into his passbook for this bank account. He smiled to himself seeing the hefty amount of that had collected in his accounts due to their frugal living and a rather lucrative investment Christopher had made in MR. Hollingsworth’s store. During a casual conversation one afternoon, Mr. Hollingsworth had mentioned he had his eye on expanding to another location and a ripe storefront had recently become available. Christopher had inquired about what was holding his employer back, and it was a matter of capital. Christopher knew Mr. Hollingsworth had sufficient cash flow to run a new store, but he did not have the capital required to open it. After inspecting the location, Christopher had agreed that it was an excellent location that would not become available again soon. Mr. Hollingsworth was a good and capable owner. That evening he spoke to Valentine regarding the new store and asked if she was comfortable investing her remaining savings into the new store.   
“The money would essentially purchase a part ownership in the business. “ Christopher explained as Valentine sat on the sofa.  
“How much of an ownership?” Valentine inquired sitting with her feet tucked under her as she lowered the written proposal Christopher had given her. Christopher sipped from his whiskey glass as he moved to sit next to her.  
“It depends on how much I can negotiate with Mr. Hollingsworth. Perhaps upwards of 30%.” Christopher remarked. Valentine’s eyes widened in surprise.  
“Really? 30%? I never in my life would I have thought I would be an owner of a business.” Valentine remarked as she looked at the proposal. The investment required most of her remaining money, leaving very little of a safety net. If the investment did not pan out as planned, she could lose it all. This concerned Valentine, being pregnant with a child, not that she thought Christopher would ever abandon her, however the notion troubled her either way.   
“Well, the partnership contract would be in my name, since the law does not allow women to engage in business partnerships.” Christopher noted flatly. This angered Valentine as her hand went absently to her softly rounded belly. Christopher noticed her movement and smirked in satisfaction at the idea his child grew within his true love. Valentine on the other hand began to seethe in annoyance.  
“Ohhh, you men! You sit and smirk about your prowess to beget a child. Yet for OUR efforts we are not even allowed the same rights as you. Don’t deny you were smirking, Christopher!” Valentine lurched up off the couch her eyes blazing. Her moods had been shifty of late, which Christopher had equated to her pregnancy, which was not uncommon. Christopher waited for Valentine to calm down rather than try to discuss the realities of current English law. “I am supposed to hand over my money to you and you are to get all the security!” Valentine pointe out in frustration. Christopher placed his glass on the end table next to the sofa, rising up to face his upset lover.   
“Valentine, are you concerned that I would not share any benefit of this investment with you if such were to occur?” Christopher asked softly.  
“Of course not. I just don’t understand why the law says I can’t be involved when it’s my money.” Valentine worried her hand to her forehead, thinking. “We’re not married, Christopher. If something were to happen to you, I would have nothing. Our child nothing.” Valentine pointed out desperately. Christopher moved to Valentine, placing his hands on Valentine’s slim upper arms, stroking them gently.   
“Have no fear, my love. As soon as you advised me of your pregnancy, I met with our family barrister and revised my last will and testament. I no longer have much, but everything I have will go to you in trust for our future child and for the care of Michael, which I know you will ensure is cared for if I were to depart this world.” Christopher smiled thoughtfully, seeing her agitation dissipate.   
“Alright. If you think this is a good opportunity, I agree we should invest. “Valentine nodded embarrassed at her outburst. Christopher moved forward, embracing Valentine gently, feathering kisses to her temple.  
“Do not worry. A very wise person once told me ‘Everything will be all right’.” Christopher repeated the words Valentine had told him in his frantic state not a few months prior when Michael was ill.  
One evening, Christopher, Valentine, Marchie, and Michael sat at the dining room table playing a card game; Maddie not joining them since she had the evening off and had gone to visit her daughter in Brixton. The telephone began to ring; Valentine stood to answer it.  
“Hello?” Valentine asked flatly. There was silence for a moment as Valentine listened to the person on the other end of the line.  
“I’m sorry, Edith, but I don’t have time to talk right now.” Valentine stated softly, slightly upset. Christopher overheard, glancing back absently, but continuing to play and talk with Michael about the game they had just finished. “I know, but, you have to understand…I’m just..Don’t think…” Valentine tried to state, but was interrupted by Edith repeatedly. This caught the attention of Christopher who decided to investigate the situation.  
“No. No, I’m sorry Edith. Please, have a good night.” Valentine stated as she slowly placed the receiver to its cradle.  
“Everything all right.” Christopher asked quietly, as he watched Valentine’s bowed head. Valentine raised her head looking to him.  
“Yes. Yes. Everything is fine.” Valentine stated as she moved around Christopher back to the dining room. Christopher was perplexed by the situation and decided he would ask later for the details since clearly she was not inclined to discuss it now.  
Later that night, Valentine returned to their bedroom, having just left Michael after reading a story with him. Christopher was waiting in the bed, reading a book. Christopher watched as Valentine undressed. Valentine’s pregnancy was beginning to show in her daytime clothes, but in her night clothes it was even more noticeable.  
Valentine climbed into the bed, a contented sigh leaving her lips as she cuddled up next to Christopher, who continued to read.  
“Care to tell me what has occurred between you and Edith?” Christopher asked casually, still reading. Valentine sighed again in resolution, knowing that Christopher would not be content unless she explained the evening’s exchange on the telephone.  
“When you were away and I discovered I was with child, I was so excited. I was visiting with Edith, and I didn’t plan on tell her, but my stomach betrayed me.” Valentine smiled shyly. “Edith immediately became concerned since I had turned white as sheet, so there was no denying it. So I told her about the baby.” Christopher closed his book and looked at Valentine in earnest. Christopher had lunch with Macmaster a few times since he had returned with Michael, and he had said nothing about knowing about the child. In fact, when he had finally told Macmaster, Vinnie had acted surprised and rejoiced at Christopher’s good fortune.  
“Edith wasn’t surprised that I had become pregnant. But she proceeded to try to convince me to be rid of it. And without tell you!” Christopher’s brow furrowed in shock and confusion.   
“Why would she tell you to do that?” Christopher asked incredulously. “You have no crazed husband to be concerned with.” Christopher pointed out reflecting on the fact that Edith Duchemin when she found herself in a family way she did have a crazed husband to be concerned with.  
“No. I don’t. But you have a crazed wife we need to be concerned with.” Valentine stated obviously. Christopher took a deep breath at the reminder.  
“Edith tried to tell me that I was taking a huge risk by becoming pregnant and that you were not acting responsibly by allowing me to become pregnant. “ Valentine explained, her voice wavering with resentment. Christopher stroked Valentine’s arm that was wrapped across his chest.  
“I was so angry. I tried to tell her that you would be happy to find out the news of your impending child. And I told her she was resentful of our happiness because she had been too pathetic to have her child for Macmaster.”   
“Valentine, that was not kind of you to say to her.” Christopher admonished. Valentine knew he was right and she had been regretful after having said it. However, Edith’s next words made Valentine want to strangle the harp.  
“Yes, it was. But do you what she said to me in response? She said, well, at least Macmaster had the decency to marry me. Do you think Christopher will ever marry you, Valentine?”  
The words hung in the air, Christopher’s lips pressed together as if he was trying to keep words from leaving his lips. He looked at Valentine who lay with her head on the pillow next to his. Christopher reached over to lightly touch Valentine’s softly rounded abdomen, adoring the feel.   
“Valentine, you know that if I were free I would marry you without hesitation.” Christopher spoke in seriously. Valentine covered his hand on her belly, holding it there.  
“I know, my dear. It was just how she just wanted me to get rid of the child. I never approved of her decision, but I understood the reasons. And then, for her to insinuate that you could not be relied upon. I just saw red.”  
“A fierce lioness protecting her cub.” Christopher noted silkily. Valentine lead forward caressing Christopher’s cheek as she kissed his cupid bow lips softly.  
“As well as her lion….” She smiled as she laid her head back on the pillow. Christopher laughed.  
“But now she is trying to make amends, and I am just not interesting in dealing with her antics. She always is looking for a way to improve her status.” Valentine stated as she pulled herself a bit closer to Christopher. Christopher pulled the blanket and duvet higher to cover more of her body. “I know Macmaster is your friend, but…”  
“I will deal with Macmaster. But I agree with your assessment that Edith is not to be trusted. I never really believed that Sylvia had shown up at the party in spring by accident.” Christopher stated, reassuring Valentine, and returning to his book. Valentine smiled as her eyes drifted shut from exhaustion.  
Valentine’s condition was becoming more and more noticeable as her pregnancy progressed. Christopher and Michael were at the table already, and as Valentine entered the room Christopher noticed her fully rounded stomach first. It seemed that overnight at about 6 and half months that her belly had developed farther out and was very noticeable as she entered in the dining room for breakfast. Christopher tried to be nonchalant about it, but Michael was not. They had not told Michael about the impending baby to be born. They were still unsure how to explain the situation to a young boy.   
“Valentine?! Why are your carrying a ball under your dress?” Michael asked harmlessly to eat his breakfast.  
“Michael, now it is not proper to comment on a lady’s appearance in such a manner.” Marchie admonished. Christopher was equally concerned about the situation and looked to Valentine for guidance. She had never fully agreed to keep the pregnancy from Michael, although Christopher had explained they weren’t keeping it from him, just not telling him preemptively.   
“I’m not carrying a ball, Michael. I am carrying a baby.” Valentine announced as she placed the napkin in her lap.  
“A baby?!” Michael stated skeptically. Christopher and Marchie were equally shocked at Valentine’s candor. She gave Christopher a look as if to ask ‘what else could I have told him was under my dress?  
“Yes, Michael. Valentine is having a baby in a few months.” Christopher announced, folding his newspaper and handing it to Valentine to read.   
“But I thought babies….”Michael started to say, clearly confused by the situation.  
“Marchie would you please go and find Maddie for me?” Christopher asked, Marchie knowing that a delicate conversation was about occur, and privacy was needed.  
“Michael, please sit here, ol’ man” Christopher patted his lap, calling to Michael to join him. Michael enthusiastically hopped onto his father’s lap. Valentine turned toward them, wanting to be part of the conversation.  
“Michael, you have questions.” Christopher stated gently, waiting for Michael to speak.  
“I don’t understand. I thought babies came from mummies and daddies. But Valentine isn’t one.” Michael thought about it for a moment.   
“Valentine is special. She is special to me, and I believe to you as well. And god has seen fit to bless her with a child.” Christopher explained.  
“But how did the baby get into her if there’s no daddy? You know you need a daddy to make a baby, right Daddy?” Michael lectured is father. Valentine laughed softly at the awkward exchange.  
“Yes. I know you need a daddy, Michael. I am the daddy.” Christopher stated clearly. Valentine waited.  
“You put it there??” Michael stated surprised. Christopher nodded without a word, finding the situation becoming uncomfortable. “But how?”  
“Michael, come here. I want to show you something.” Valentine invited, rescuing Christopher from answering. Michael hopped off his father’s lap and walked to Valentine. Valentine took Michael’s hand and placed it on her rounded belly. Michael looked at it curiously.  
“It’s warm. And hard.” Michael stated observably. At that moment, the child within Valentine decided to move. Michael’s widened in surprise. “I can feel it. I can!” Michael stated excitedly, turning to look at his father. “Daddy, I can feel it.” Valentine laughed at Michael’s enthusiasm.   
“And after it is born, you will have a playmate.” Valentine explained.  
“I hope it is a boy. I would much prefer play with a boy than a girl.” Michael stated pointedly, his face scrunching up his face at the word girl.  
“Can you make sure it’s a boy?” He asked Valentine. Valentine smiled, stroking Michael’s cheek lovingly, looking past Michael to Christopher, who had tears in his eyes watching his son.  
“I will do my best.” Valentine smiled down at the boy.  
The final three months of Valentine’s pregnancy progressed without incident. Her girth increased considerably, but it was not unmanageable, just annoying. Christopher did his best to be caring and considerate. Then, quite suddenly, the day arrived.  
Valentine’s water broke in the middle of the day. Christopher was at the store when Maddie had called him with the news. Valentine’s mother was called as well to be with her daughter through her first birth. Michael was taken by Marchie to visit his Uncle Mark at his home, which was planned ahead given the flat’s size. Christopher did not want Michael to hear Valentine in pain or worse.   
A few hours after her water had broken, Valentine’s pain increased exponentially. Christopher had stayed away for a while, but Valentine asked her mother to bring him to her. Christopher had not been present, in the room, when Michael had been born. In fact, Christopher’s father had insistent they go hunting while Sylvia had been in labor. As Christopher entered the room, his eyes went straight to Valentine’s sweaty and flushed face. Valentine smiled as Christopher arrived. Mrs. Wannop moved around Christopher to assist the midwife. Dr. Foster was on his way, but the midwife was handling things fine up to this point. Christopher stood in the doorway, unsure what to do. Just then a contraction gripped Valentine who gripped the bed clothes in shock and gritted her teeth, panting through the wave of pain. Mrs. Wannop moved forward to help her daughter. Christopher moved to his Valentine seeing her in such pain. He was well aware of the birthing process; he had seen plenty of animal births. But this was Valentine, not a horse or cow. He removed his suit jacket, and started to help Valentine. Dr. Foster arrived and examined Valentine, noting that things were looking good.   
Another three hours later, and Christopher was amazed at the energy Valentine displayed. Christopher had rolled up his shirtsleeves and had Valentine leaning back against him as she braced through each contraction. Dr. Foster advised it was time to push, and bed was stripped of blankets, Valentine’s legs were bent and spread to give access to the child coming forth.  
“All right Valentine, push with the next contraction. Keep pushing as I count up to 20” Dr. Foster stated urgently. Valentine nodded weakly, looking to Christopher who kissed her temple softly as encouragement.  
“You can do this, Valentine.” Christopher whispered. Valentine began to push. After counting to 20, Valentine collapsed back against Christopher. How he wished he could take her pain. But before she had time to rest, another contraction came upon her. Christopher was shocked at the closeness of the contractions coming now. The doctor once again counted to 20. Over and over he counted to 20. Valentine started to cry out from the pain, and Christopher looked helplessly to Mrs. Wannop, who was crying softly watching her daughter in such pain.   
Then a soft cry of an infant pierced the room. Valentine collapsed again against Christopher, who kissed and held her as the pain of the birth subsided. The cries of the infant continued, but Christopher didn’t notice, all his concern was for his love, Valentine. The midwife and doctor worked quickly to complete the birth. Mrs. Wannop hovering by taking charge of the squalling infant.   
Mrs. Wannop wrapped the baby in a blanket quickly, rocking softly. She moved toward her daughter and Christopher. Christopher lifted Valentine a bit, and Valentine stretched her arms out to hold her child for the first time.   
“You have a son, Valentine.” Mrs. Wannop announced softly as she placed the now quieted infant. Valentine started to sob as she looked at the beautiful infant she held in her arms. Christopher could do nothing except gaze through tears at his new son. Christopher moved off the bed, and wrapped his arms around his Valentine and his son. Their lips met sweetly and passionately, then gazing at the perfect little person they had created.   
“Here, hold you son.” Valentine urged Christopher. Christopher, unsure, placed a hand under the baby’s bum and one under his small head. He lifted the baby to his chest, cradling him as he looked at his mother’s exhausted face. Christopher closed his eyes in silent prayer that everything had been all right.


	10. Naming an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 22, 1920

The morning came too early for Valentine. Her body was sore and she felt a bit weak. But her energy seem to flow back into her as she heard the soft cooing in a bassinet next to the bed. It was then she remembered: she was a mother. The faint movements told her that her son was awake and restless. Less than 24 hours ago he was still inside her, safe and warm in her womb. She could hear the gurgling as he sounded as if he was going to start to cry. Valentine looked to her left and saw Christopher there. He was not in his normal sleepwear or his normal sleeping position. It looked as if he had just flopped into the bed, lying on his stomach, and fallen asleep in pure exhaustion. Valentine smiled as she looked to her Christopher. Oh, how she wanted to cuddle closer to him, but their newborn son was threatening to cry out and she did not want Christopher to be disturbed.  
When Valentine had become pregnant, and Michael and Marchie had come to the flat to live, it soon became apparent that the flat was not going to big enough for all of them. Marchie had advised she could move in the Maddie downstairs. However, Christopher noted the room’s location was too far from the nursery for her to be an effective nanny. Maddie could move upstairs into the converted room with Marchie, but the nursery could not be moved downstairs, which did not help. The 1st floor was always a bit chillier than the 2nd floor, and the children would be too far away for Valentine’s liking. Marchie was surprised at Valentine’s insistence that Michael and the new baby be nearby so she could be involved. Marchie had not expected that. Nor had she expected Miss Wannop to breastfeed her own child. The subject had come up one afternoon between Marchie and Valentine. Valentine had been caught off guard when Marchie had inquired about when Valentine was going to begin interviews for a wet nurse. Valentine understood that upper class ladies did not always nurse their own children, but Valentine was not upper class and she would not relinquish the gift of watching her child suckle at her own breast just for societies’ sake. Lord knows she and Christopher had thumbed their noses at them already, what difference does it make now? Marchie agreed with Valentine, having nursed her own son and daughter when they were born. Christopher never asked or thought to question how things would progress after the child was born, Valentine determined that it just wasn’t something he was ever asked to participate in before. In the end, it was decided they baby would stay in Christopher and Valentine’s bedroom for the time being. This shocked Marchie who had thought she would be required to attend the new baby. She was just a bit disappointed she was not going to be as involved as she had been with Christopher and Michael.  
Valentine drew back the covers of the bed, and eased up slowly. The sun was just being to rise and its rays peeked through the curtains of the bedroom. The room was warm, the fire in the fireplace had been tended to throughout the night to stave off the cool February air. Valentine crept to the bassinet and her breath caught the sight of her little boy. He was wrapped up in a blue cashmere blanket and had on pale blue gown. Her son did not look very happy, his face scrunched up and red, but he made only semi-silent fussing noises. It was almost as if he too was not happy the sun rays.  
Valentine gingerly lifted her son into her arms. He fussed a bit being moved, but soon he realized who was holding him. Valentine checked his nappy.  
“Everything alright there.” Valentine whispered. Still the boy fussed, but soon Valentine was seated in the overstuffed chair Christopher had insisted he bring upstairs from the living room. The warmth of fire radiated out nicely to keep the area around the chair warm. Valentine smiled as she adjusted her son a bit in her arms, seeing the blanket on the back of the chair she knew Christopher had placed there for her. He always thinks of everything, Valentine thought, as she brought the warm wool blanket to cover her lap and legs. Valentine adjusted her nightclothes to expose one full breast. Her body seemed to know a hungry baby was near, as a bit of milk had already leaked from her breasts in response to the baby’s fussing. Her mother had helped show Valentine how to encourage the babe to latch onto her breast.  
“If he is too upset when you go to nurse him Valentine he will not latch on, so it is important to calm him as much as possible before you try to nurse. Better for you both I assure you.” Valentine’s mother stated, speaking from obvious experience, as she guided her daughter through her first step into motherhood.  
Valentine moved the baby’s mouth to the waiting nipple, tilting his head slightly to provide the best angle. She was bit awkward at first, but soon the child was suckling hungrily at her breast. Valentine adjusted the blue blanket around his body, feeling the wonderful strong pull of the baby’s mouth on her breast. Valentine watched her son as he drew from her breast, stroking his soft head, examining him for the first time in real appreciation of his beauty and wonder. His skin was pale, but heal the rose tint of newness. He had a light dusting of golden hair on his head, not surprising given his both of his parent’s fair hair. He had blue eyes, but Dr. Foster advised his eyes may change within a few weeks to another shade. Valentine hoped he would have Christopher’s handsome hazel green eyes. Valentine leaned back in sublime sedation. She was so relaxed she did not notice those same hazel green eyes she had been dreaming about were now watching her from the bed.  
Christopher gazed at his Valentine, his mistress, his true love. He had felt her get up from the bed. He was surprised last night that Valentine had asked him to stay with her. He was equally surprised when Valentine did in fact keep the babe in the room with her. And he was downright dumbfounded when Valentine had risen prior to the dawn and was now in the process of nursing his son. All of these things Sylvia would have never allowed or done. In the first days of Michael’s life, Sylvia had claimed to be too weak to do anything, even hold Michael. She had flatly refused to get up to care for Michael, having Marchie do 90% of the work, and was against nursing the boy herself for fear of ruining her figure. In those first few weeks, Christopher had held Michael more than Sylvia had; Sylvia only played the role of loving new mother when guests were around and she could parade Michael out like a trophy. Christopher admonished himself for thinking of his wicked wife as he gazed upon his angelic Valentine. She was not like Sylvia, Christopher felt as if he was a first time father, even though this was his second son. A second son, Christopher quietly rejoiced, he would have never thought it possible when he was sitting leg deep in mud on the front lines watching men die all around him in the war. This was his second chance…a second son. Christopher watched as Valentine awkwardly placed their son to her breast, but soon the child had settled in and was content; Valentine too seemed sublime as she rested her head against the back of the large chair.  
Christopher rose out of the bed, he looked down at himself and saw he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. Christopher glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle, 5:12 am. Still too early to call Hollingsworth to tell him the good news. Too early for anyone to be up, including Valentine, Christopher thought as he glanced over at her. He was amazed that she was up and about…Sylvia had….No! Stop doing that, Christopher, he thought. Valentine was fine, she had done an amazing feat yesterday and he would be forever in awe of her and all women. He padded silently around the bed, not wanting to disturb her. However, as he passed by Valentine’s head lifted a bit and her eyes opened, a smile so bright and soft spread across her face, it was not to be imagined.  
“Where are you going?” Valentine whispered, the crackle of the fire only thing louder that her voice. Christopher paused, looked down to her, “I need to build up the fire a bit in here, plus I need to relieve myself.”  
Valentine nodded slightly, “Don’t be long.” Christopher moved quickly and quietly through the house to obtain the items he needed for the fire. When he returned he saw that the child had finished nursing and Valentine was just holding him, toying gently with his small pink hand exposed from under the blanket.  
Christopher moved to the fire, adding a few logs there. He turned to his lady love, offering his hand to help her stand.

“Come back to bed.” Christopher advised sweetly. Valentine carried the baby to the bed, Christopher’s arm around her waist in concern.  
“There was a time before if you had said those same words to me, there would be much different ending to your invitation.” Valentine spoke softly as she climbed into the bed with the sleeping baby in her arms. Christopher chuckled and quickly tucked her and the baby in, before walking around to the other side of the bed and climbing in next to Valentine. Valentine moved closer to Christopher, who place his arm around her shoulders to bring her up against his side. Valentine laid her head on the Christopher’s shoulder and sighed in contentment.  
“Are you sure you are well enough to move about, my dear?” Christopher asked softly, feathering his lips against Valentine’s temple thoughtfully.  
“I am fine, Christopher. We are both just fine.” Valentine assured him, stroking the baby tenderly. Christopher contemplated his son being held in his true love’s arms. He stroked the soft down of the boy’s perfectly round head. Dr. Foster advised the child had come through the birth without any complications and was a healthy 4 kilograms.  
“For a first child, Valentine has performed admirably”, Dr. Foster advised Christopher as he walked to the front entrance of the flat.  
“Thank you doctor for your professionalism and kindness towards Valentine.” Christopher responded, shaking the doctor’s hand. Christopher was aware some doctors were not inclined to serve women who were paramours of the ton. He had heard some vicious stories in the past about the way doctors would treat these women, when it was the men who should be the ones taking the brunt.  
“It was my pleasure. She is a remarkable young woman, very intelligent.” The doctor paused, “See that she gets some rest and you as well, Christopher. New infants are not to be trifled with.” Dr. Foster smiled genuinely to Christopher, both of laughing at his joke, as he exited the flat with the midwife in tow.  
“Our son needs a name.” Christopher remarked to Valentine as they lay cuddled up in the bed, the warmth of the fire and their love filling the room. Curiously they had never really fully discussed any names for the baby previously.  
“What names do you like?” Valentine asked quietly as she lifted the child so Christopher could take the child from her so she could use the water closet. Christopher rocked the sleeping baby gently and kissed his little forehead softly. Christopher said nothing as she walked to the next room. As she re-entered the room she paused at what she heard and saw.  
“D'ye ken John Peel with his coat so gray? D'ye ken John Peel at the break o' day?” Christopher softly spoke/sang to his newborn son with his deep-baritone voice, he did not hear Valentine return, so she watched as he continued singing softly.  
“D'ye ken John Peel when he's far, far a-way. With his hounds and his horn in the morning?” As Christopher finished his song, he glanced up to see Valentine watching him.  
“Well that’s it then.” Valentine announced as she returned to the bed. “Your son will love you forever and ever.” Christopher looked at Valentine queerly.  
“My dear, don’t you remember? That is the song you sang to me when we were trying to find our way in the mist. So I could find my way back to you.” Valentine paused waiting for Christopher to remember. He did remember, the night, the ride, the conversation, and the almost kiss; he smiled widely.  
“That was the night that I feel so in love with you, although I hadn’t really realized it.” Valentine confessed to her lover. Christopher leaned over and kissed her tenderly.  
“So I think we should name him John, to remember the song you sang to me when we are old and gray.” Valentine offered. Christopher did not seem as inclined to agree to the name, although it did have some merit.  
“Alexander. Alexander Gilbert John Tietjens. Alexander for our son’s future greatness, Gilbert for your father. John for our song. What do you think?” Christopher asked expectantly.  
“I think it is wonderful, Christopher. It’s perfect. Just like him.” Valentine expressed with tears of joy.  
“Get some rest, I shall put great Alexander to bed.” Christopher instructed Valentine, who obediently slipped down further under the covers, as Christopher carried Alexander back to the bassinet.  
Alexander Gilbert John Tietjens was baptized less than a month after his birth at the St Martin-in-the-Fields Church by the Tietjens family priest. Even though the child was born out of wedlock, the priest understood the need to ensure the child’s religious upbringing was assured.  
Michael was elated that his new playmate was a boy. He was anxious for Alexander to grow big enough for him to really play. Valentine assured Michael that it would not be long before Alexander would be able to truly play, but until then Michael would have to be careful and attentive.  
It was through the baptism Sylvia was made aware of the fact Christopher and his mistress were parents of a new baby boy. The fact that Michael was still being withheld from her was not so much of an issue before, but now Sylvia was incensed.  
“How dare he keep my son from me when he has a new brat from his whore?” Sylvia screamed at her maid, Evie, who looked on without reaction. She knew better than to say or do anything when Sylvia was in one of her moods. She had recently gotten “bored” with her latest man. He wasn’t anything compared to Christopher, Sylvia thought. Christopher was a man, an adult. But he did not give her the attention she needed to not be bored out of her mind. And then he had left her to go to war. It was all too much. And now this.  
Sylvia had enough. She would get him back. She had cut down his precious pagan tree at Groby. And now she was trapped at Groby once again waiting for SOMETHING to happen. Well, she would make something happen alright.  
“Get out! Get out right now!” Sylvia yelled at Evie. She wrapped her negligee tightly around her as she literally chased Evie down the stairs, yelling for the servants to get up as the hall clock chimed 1 am. The servants did not respond immediately, enraging Sylvia more.  
“I hate this place! It feels like a tomb! Well, I will not live in a tomb. Not anymore.” Sylvia announced as her mind went wild as she began her search.  
The phone rang the next morning. Everyone was at breakfast; Christopher read his paper, while Valentine fussed over Michael and Alexander simultaneously. Maddie answered the phone quietly, returning to the dining room.  
“Telephone, Mr. Tietjens.” Maddie stated flatly.  
“Thank you, Maddie.” Christopher responded, folding his paper and leaving it on the table. Valentine immediately snatched it up to read the latest headlines. There was silence in the other room, but Alexander began fussing drawing Valentine’s attention. Valentine heard the telephone receiver being placed in its cradle. Christopher returned to the dining room, looking grave and concerned.  
“Christopher?” Valentine asked seeing the concern on Christopher’s face. Christopher motioned for Valentine to follow him to the living room area.  
“Marchie, see to Alexander a moment. I need to speak with Christopher.” Valentine followed Christopher who poured himself a whiskey, at 9am in the morning.  
“What is it? Who was that?” Valentine asked very concerned as she watch Christopher take a deep swig of whiskey from the glass.  
“That was Mark. There has been a fire at Groby.” Valentine gasped in shock, glancing over to Michael.  
“Is anyone hurt?” Valentine asked. Christopher half-smiled in response to Valentine’s concern for the people verse the property at Groby, Mark had been the exact opposite.  
“Yes. Sylvia. She died in the fire. Everyone else escaped with only a few with minor injuries.” Christopher stated gravely, Valentine covering her mouth in shock. “Sylvia was apparently deranged about something, Mark was not sure what about. She tried to burn Groby to the ground, and in the process killed herself.”  
“My god! And Groby? Is it…is it gone?” Valentine whispered, reaching out to clutch Christopher’s arm in concern.  
“Not all, but there was extensive damage to the main house according to Mark.” Christopher took another drink from his glass. “Mark is taking the next train to Leicester, and I am going to join him. I need to make arrangements. I will call you when I have more information.” Christopher paused, the reality overwhelming him, he dropped to the sofa silence, glancing at Michael.  
“Oh Valentine. What am I going to tell Michael? I took him from his mother, and he hasn’t seen or heard from her since, because I forbid it. And now she’s dead.” Christopher sobbed softly, not for the loss of his wife, but for Michael’s loss of his mother. “Is this my penance? For being happy, that my son will hate me for what I have done. Sylvia will haunt me from the grave for eternity.”  
Valentine took Christopher’s hand trying to comfort him. “My dear. This is not your fault. Sylvia abandoned Michael long ago. She chose her path just as we have chosen ours.”


	11. Interlude #1

Ana lowered the journal into her lap, her eyes filled with tears and her heart pounding. In the last week she had read two of the journals, and she had been amazed and delighted as she read each one. Ana could not imagine what he rest of the journals were filled with. It was almost legend regarding the Great Groby fire. The local townspeople in Leicester still spoke of it like a great dragon had come down and tried to destroy the great house. Dragon indeed, Ana thought. Ana discovered that Grandma Val was not her Uncle Michael’s biological mother after she had died, and that Uncle Michael’s mother had died tragically in the Great Groby fire. Not much was spoken about her, but judging from the entries into her Grandma Val’s journals, she could see why no one spoke about her. Nor were there any pictures of her anywhere in the house. The house at Groby was filled with pictures, memories, paintings of the family through the years. Every room had a multitude of pictures of not just immediate family, but of loyal servants who were no longer alive, like Marchie. Ana remembered hearing how fondly Grandpapa Tietjens had spoken of his former nanny and the nanny to many of his children. 

Her Grandma Val had left very little to the imagination, especially some of the intimate moments with Grandpapa. At first she had been a little shocked, since she had only known both of them when they were well into their 70s and 80s. However, Ana had to concede that they hadn’t been old forever, so as she moved through the journals she had become less shocked and more interested at how their relationship had developed. Obviously Grandpapa was a great lover to Grandma. How I wish I could find a great love like that, Ana thought wistfully. Men in the modern era where just not the same as her Grandpapa was. He was always so strong, principled, selfless, loving, and firm. A real man was truly hard to find.

Ana looked at the alarm clock on her night stand, 2:43 am it read on its digital face. Ugh, it is so late, Ana thought to herself, but she could not seem to put down the journal. It was always 2 more pages, 3 more pages, just want to finish this entry. But she found herself reading and reading, soaking in the love and affection she could feel reading her grandma’s words. Just a few more pages, Ana thought as she sunk down into the bed a bit further. She turned back a few pages to when Alexander’s birth was described, when Ana noticed the date had changed from just a month and year, to a full date: February 21, 1920, Uncle Alexander’s birthdate. So Grandma Val had decided to add the dates wore specifically to commemorate special days. Alexander’s birth was obvious special. Oh, how I wished I could have known him, Ana wondered and sighed as she continued reading the journal in earnest again.


	12. A Tragedy at Groby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February - July 1920

It would take over a year to repair and rebuild Groby Hall to its former glory. 

Christopher and Mark made the trip to Groby on the next train to inspect the damage. Dark smoke and the acrid smell of smoldering timber, stone, and memories could be seen and smelt far off from the actual estate. It was unnerving, even to the reserved and steadfast Tietjens brothers. On the way to the train was some conversation, mostly about Groby and how any repairs would be paid for.  
“I will manage the payments. You just see to the repairs.” Mark commanded softly to Christopher, who sat across from him in the private car on the train.   
“Why should I be solely responsible for the repairs?” Christopher responded gruffly to the way Mark commanded him.  
“Because you are the 13th Lord of Groby and Michael’s sole remaining parent, who will inherit Groby at his majority.” Mark snapped back, a bit annoyed at Christopher’s seeming reluctance to handle his responsibilities. “Besides, it was your mad wife who attempted to destroy Groby. And it should be you who cleans up this mess.” Christopher could say nothing to Mark’s logical reasoning. It had been his fault, well, he was fairly certain it was. If he had been at Groby he may have been able to stop Sylvia in her rage. His guilt must have been visible on his face as Mark tapped Christopher lightly on the foot with his dandy walking stick playfully.  
“Buck up ol’ boy. You are free of her now. You can now make your little mistress your wife.” Mark reminded Christopher. Another guilt Christopher felt as he had ruminated about the reality of Sylvia’s death. He worried how he would tell Michael, but then he thought of the way Michael barely noticed his mother’s absence since coming to London. Still, it was poorly done to think how such a tragedy would make his life so much happier.  
“But what about Michael? And Sylvia’s mother? I don’t know how I am going to face them.” Christopher answered honestly. He had not been in contact with Mrs. Satterwaite since his return from the war. Almost 2 years had passed. And now it seemed he was going to have face her with this terrible news and the knowledge that he had abandoned his responsibilities as a husband to be with Valentine.   
“Michael seemed jolly enough less than a week ago when I saw him. Not a care in the world that fellow. You are too soft on him Christopher.” Mark admonished. “I dare say he will be better off without that guttersnipe. Miss Wannop is a much better mother from what I have seen. Even Marie agrees that she is exceptional.” Mark ranted on for a moment to Christopher’s surprise. “Damn fool. Now you have Marie talking about having a baby. It’s a damn annoyance all your damn happiness, I tell you.” Christopher chuckled at Mark’s rant, but then became somber.  
“I never thanked you or Marie, for your kindness towards Ms. Wannop. Marie has been most accommodating and helpful to her adjusting to her new…..position.” Christopher paused trying to find the right words. Mark said nothing in response, only smiled at his younger half-brother in silent appreciation that God had indeed changed sides for the better.

Christopher and Mark arrived at Groby Hall, shocked at the devastation. The whole eastern wing, the side where the old Groby Great Tree had been, was gone. A blacked pile of ash and stone is all that remained. The servants came forth one by one to give their accounts of the night, and soon it became apparent what had transpired. The act of violence against the home by Sylvia was unmistakable and unforgivable, by all. Even Sylvia’s loyal maid was bitter at her mistress’s selfish actions and worried about her loss of a position within the household. Christopher assured her that they would find a position for her within the household or elsewhere if she would like. Evie smiled at Christopher’s offer, and was reminded that she had always liked Mr. Tietjens, even if her mistress did not. It was then she decided to tell Christopher the truth, the truth only she knew.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but I must tell you something.” Evie announced with a hushed whisper, glancing about furtively to see who was about. Christopher heard the urgency in the maid’s tone and paused to listen.  
“I was sworn never to tell you by Mrs. Tietjens, but I feel it is my Christian duty to do what it right, now that she’s gone from this world.” Christopher waited anxiously for Evie to continue. “The boy, Michael, he is your son.” Christopher’s breath caught a bit as she continued. “She told me the night before your wedding. She only thought she was with child that day you met, on the train.” Evie blushed a bit, and Christopher knew she knew what he and Sylvia had done that day. It was of no matter at this point, the whole of society knew all the sordid details for all he knew. “She just wanted to be able to hang the uncertainty of it all over your ‘ead. I never thought it was right for her to do those awful things to you. You were always so kind and supportive to her.” The breath he was holding left Christopher’s lungs, he nodded in appreciation of Evie telling him this information, although Christopher had determined long ago that Michael was indeed his. His personality, coloring, intelligence were much like his. But it was a great relief that Evie had told him the truth Sylvia had withheld from him. 

Funeral arrangements were made for Sylvia. Christopher telegrammed his mother-in-law to inform her of her daughter’s death. He did wish to engage the woman in any discussions about the situation. He telephoned Valentine and advised her when Marchie and Michael should come up. It was then he would tell his son the news. He hoped to shield his son from his mother-in-law to ensure that she did not exasperate the horrid situation for his son. Christopher silently wished that Valentine could come as well. However, Valentine made a trivial excuse about Alexander traveling so young, even though Valentine would allow Alexander to crawl in the grass in the park. Christopher knew why she said it, it was a way to keep him from feeling bad about being away from her. In the end, Valentine told Christopher she and Alexander would be waiting for him and Michael to return to them soon. It warmed Christopher’s heart to know Valentine was so steadfast in her belief in him, especially when he was not as steadfast about his own abilities.

The funeral was a somber affair, as expected. To no one’s surprise several dozen anonymous funeral arrangements arrived at Groby Hall for Sylvia’s funeral. Mark thought it in poor taste to allow the arrangements to be present, but Christopher would not remove them. It was a silent and physical reminder of all the lovers Sylvia had before and during their marriage. Besides, the multitude of flowers were quite lovely and Sylvia would not have wanted anything less for her last party on this earth. Michael was numb to the knowledge his mother was gone. It troubled Christopher to see his son so solemn. After the funeral, Christopher walked to where Michael stood, looking out over the vast acreage of the Groby estate.   
“How are you holding up ol’ chap?” Christopher asked lightly, leaning against the rail to gaze upon his son. He was so young, just about to have his ten-year birthday, and Christopher was fully aware of the tragedies he had endured. Michael did not respond, just shrugged his shoulders in indifference. Christopher just stood by, wanting to be there for his son if he did chose to talk. Finally, Michael turned his fair head and gazed up at his father.  
“Daddy, I miss Valentine and Alex, when can we go home?” Michael asked considerately. Christopher smiled at son, patting his small, but strong shoulder lightly. He was a good boy, but clearly his melancholy was not from suffering the loss of his mother, but from the sincere longing to be with Valentine and his brother. Yes, brother, Christopher thought. Regardless of who their mothers were, they were brothers in every way. It never seemed to bother Mark and him. But Christopher knew that Valentine would see no difference between them. She had cleaved Michael lovingly to the bosom of her heart and soul when he arrived in London. And Michael had blossomed under Valentine’s loving, gentle, and kind ways.   
“Soon. Very soon.” Christopher responded lightly.

Later that evening, after Christopher had tucked Michael into bed, Christopher decided he needed a drink and a bit of time to himself after the events of the day. The eastern wing of Groby was still livable, if a bit sooty and chilled. It would have to do until everything had been settled, he thought. As he came into the converted drawing room, which had previously been his father’s study, he spotted Mrs. Satterwaite seated before the fire. She was still in the clothes from the funeral, her hat still perched on her head at a jaunty angle. Christopher had only briefly glimpsed her as he and Michael walked Sylvia’s casket to the mausoleum. She had not attended the banquet in honor of her daughter. He felt sorry for the woman, having lost her only daughter so young. He walked slowly into the room, however, Mrs. Satterwaite did not seem to notice. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, when he noticed a glass was missing. He looked to see his former mother-in-law holding a now empty glass in her had. Judging by the level in the decanter, Christopher assumed she must have be partaking of the drink for some time now. Oh well, an engagement was bound to happen in this situation, Christopher thought. He walked around the sofa, taking a seat at the farthest point he could away from Mrs. Satterwaite. A few minutes ticked by, and neither of them spoke, Christopher taking small sips from his tumbler of whiskey.  
“Such a tragedy.” Mrs. Satterwaite stated softly, continuing to gaze into the fire. Christopher did not respond, but what could he say. “It is a tragedy to watch your children grow and then fade from this world.” Mrs. Satterwaite turned towards Christopher looking at him with sad, thoughtful eyes.  
“No parent should have to endure this…to have to a child die before you is the greatest agony.” Christopher saw his mother-in-law’s pain, and as much as he hated Sylvia, her mother had been at times the only thing that saved Sylvia from herself. He could only nod in acknowledgement to Mrs. Satterwaite’s comment.  
“But we both knew it was bound to happen.” Mrs. Satterwaite sighed dramatically, and placed the empty whiskey glass on the table next to her. “If it wasn’t some accident such as this,” she waved to the remnants of Groby Hall, “it would have been one of her lovers who would have killed her. She never was one to know when it was time to let up. Always pushing farther and farther to see how far she could go before….” Mrs. Satterwaite paused, her voice breaking a bit. Christopher just watched as he took another sip from his glass. “I fear I failed when it came to my daughter. And this is the result of my failure.” Christopher wanted to agree with her, but there was no point in rubbing salt in the wound, the poor woman had lost her child forever; that should be enough of a penance.  
“Do you have nothing to say? Or are you secretly rejoicing now that you are free of my daughter?” Mrs. Satterwaite stated with venom, her mood changing quickly. He had seen this quickly changing mood before, in Sylvia. But he did not like her tone, but again, a gentleman does not run a distraught woman through the mud just for being a bit emotional after losing her child.  
“I am not rejoicing in anything this night, Mr. Satterwaite. Least of all the turn of this conversation.” Christopher responded pointedly. Mrs. Satterwaite seemed to bow down a bit in her stance, but her gaze never wavered from Christopher’s.  
“You will repair and rebuild Groby I assume.” Mrs. Satterwaite asked lightly.  
“Of course. But the repairs will take time. The war has severely depleted the available construction material.” Christopher stated blandly, glad the conversation had turned less confrontational.  
“And after Groby is restored….I assume you and Michael will come here to live.”  
“Yes, that is my intention.” Christopher answered, aware of where this line of questioning may lead.  
“And your mistress and her child?” Mrs. Satterwaite asked pointedly, her eyebrow coming up slightly. Christopher took a longed pull from the whiskey glass, looking at his former mother-in-law with hostility over the glass. “Oh, you thought I didn’t know about that? How quaint…”  
“No, I was not surprised you knew about Miss Wannop and my newborn son, Alexander…” Christopher paused for a moment, gauging Mrs. Satterwaite’s reaction to his response. “No doubt you have been kept well informed through the vicious social circles both you and your daughter occupy.”   
“Occupied, not occupy” Mrs. Satterwaite pointed out the fact her daughter was no longer by using the past tense form of the word Christopher just utilized. “And yes, I am well aware your mistress has whelped a boy for you. Undoubtedly securing her status.” The use of word status hung between them, challenging Christopher to respond.  
“Quite right, her status has been secured.” Christopher responded agreeably, too agreeably for Mrs. Satterwaite. She was posed for the attack. “Once Groby has been restored, and dare I say improved upon, Miss Wannop and my son will join Michael and I here at Groby. Permanently.” Christopher stated, placing the now empty glass on the end table. Mrs. Satterwaite fumed with resentment.  
“You wanted this. You wanted her to die.” Mrs. Satterwaite stated softly and in shock.  
“No, mad’ am. I never wished for this or for Sylvia’s death” Christopher stated, a small lie. “But if memory serves your daughter did mention it on a quite regular basis that she DID want to die.” Christopher pointed out to his former mother-in-law in disgust of many of Sylvia’s temperamental displays of drama.   
Christopher, tiring of the conversation and the company, rose from the sofa gracefully. He walked toward his former mother-in-law who was still in shock at Christopher’s responses to her attacks. “Repairs on the hall will be begin in the morning. I suggest that your departure be soon as to not be overly inconvenienced.” Christopher started to walk away, but paused and began to speak again.   
“And as far as Miss Wannop is concerned, I will have you know, here and now, I will make her my wife as soon as it is allowable. A year perhaps. Perhaps a simple country wedding here at Groby would be nice. Yes, Valentine would like that.” Christopher itemized as he re-buttoned his black dress coat and gazed whimsically into a far off place. “You are, of course, welcome to join us as you are Michael’s grandmother. However, I do believe you will most likely find some reason not be in attendance.”   
“I hope you never have to endure what I am enduring now, Christopher Tietjens.” Mrs. Satterwaite stated with something akin to a snarl as if almost as a curse. Christopher bowed slightly in greeting as he exited the room. Mrs. Satterwaite sat in silenced as Christopher footsteps faded into the night.

The next few months were hectic. As promised Michael and Marchie returned to London shortly after the funeral. Christopher remained at Groby for a two months to supervise the cleanup of the damage to Groby Hall. An engineer was engaged to ensure things were repair properly. As well, Christopher insisted that the new construction accommodate and allowe for a new Groby Tree to be placed where the old one had been. All had agreed most heartedly that a new Groby Tree would be wonderful. After his conversation with Mrs. Satterwaite he had heard very little from her. The only correspondence he received was for Michael, which he dutifully gave to his son. He wanted his son to know his grandmother, and there was no reason to not allow a correspondence to occur.   
Christopher resigned his position with Mr. Hollingsworth, but retained a 30% ownership in the new location which was doing very well. Mr. Hollingsworth was sad to see Christopher depart, but his business was in a much better position, thanks to Christopher, and he was glad to see some good come to his partner and friend. Christopher engaged his fellow officers and soldiers, some of whom were still looking for work, offering them to assist at Groby. He needed people he could trust up there when he could not be. He wanted to be home with Valentine, and he missed his children terribly.

One July evening in London, Christopher was up late reviewing the new plans for Groby. The windows in the home were open, allowing a slight breeze to drift through the flat.   
Alexander was almost 6 months old, and recently been moved into Michael’s room to sleep at night. Valentine had learned from her mother that if she would feed Alexander a bit of oatmeal cereal before she nursed him before bed he would sleep almost through the entire night. Alexander had not been a difficult baby, but she did not want anyone inconvenienced. Marchie had been wonderful with Alexander, but there was only so much she could do since she needed Valentine to nurse. 

“Perhaps you could consider a breast pump? I read about them in an advertisement in the paper. Might be a good solution to allow you to rest more?” Marchie had offered one afternoon when the children were asleep, and they were playing a card game. Marchie like Valentine a lot, enjoyed her youthful vitality.   
“Where would we store it? I mean, how safe is it?” Valentine asked Marchie as they played.  
“I’m not sure. But we do have that new refrigerator that would be able to store it for a little while.” Marchie stated. Valentine didn’t like the idea of her son nursing on cold milk, nor did she care for the idea of the pump. But she would look into it with Dr. Foster the next time she saw him.

Valentine woke to find her lover absent from their bed. With all the traveling and her healing from Alexander’s birth, their love making had ceased. Christopher was still affectionate and caring, but often he was tired from traveling, and she was tired from taking care of Alexander. Valentine eased from the bed, her intent to seek out her absent lover. She checked on the children in their room, peeking in to regard Michael and Alexander, who were both sleeping soundly. Valentine padded softly down the stairs, seeking Christopher out. The flat was not large, so she found him at his desk in the living room, pondering the construction plans aid out before him. So engrossed he was, he did not hear Valentine approach.   
“Christopher?” Valentine spoke softly. The sound made Christopher jump in shock, frightening them both. Valentine started to giggle after the fright wore off, with Christopher joining her as well.   
“I’m sorry I frightened you, I did not mean it.” Valentine stated laughingly, as she draped her arms around Christopher’s shoulders, peering over them at the plans there. Christopher nodded casually, and kissed her hand that was lying just below his chin playfully.  
“What is all this?” Valentine pointed to the colors and shapes on the plans. Christopher proceeded to give her a detailed explanation of the improvements they were including in the repairs at Groby. All seemed very modern, but would retain the old look of the home.   
“But most importantly, there were be plumbing throughout the home to accommodate bathtubs and water closets.” Christopher announced with a bit of glee. “No more water being heated and carried from the kitchen, and chamber pots.”   
“I like chamber pots.” Valentine joked, Christopher laughed in response.   
“That is because you do not have to empty them.” Christopher retorted. Valentine in mock protest, huffed.  
“Well, I have changed enough dirty nappies in the last 5 months to make up for it. Ghastly stuff coming out such an angelic being.” Christopher laughed again at her description, continuing to make notes.  
“Christopher, its midnight. You should get some rest.” Valentine cooed softly, stroking her hand through his hair lovingly. Christopher sighed, luxuriating in the feel of her fingertips running through his hair.  
“And you need a haircut.” Valentine announced. Christopher looked back at his love, a gleam in his eye. He swiveled this desk chair around. He moved Valentine to stand between his legs as he gazed longingly up to her.   
“Tomorrow is Michael’s 10th birthday. What do we have planned?” Christopher asked as he stroked Valentine’s waist and hips. Valentine had returned to her pre-pregnancy weight, but there was more curve to her hips now.  
“We have a picnic in the park planned. It was Michael’s idea. He so loves to play in the park.” Valentine state breathlessly as she indulged Christopher’s hands upon her.   
“He loves to go to the park with you. He loves play with you.” Valentine wanted him so badly, every word seem to have a double meaning. Christopher spoke as his hands moved upward. It had been a long time since they had been intimate. Valentine leaned down and kissed Christopher fiercely. Their mouths mating hungrily. Their hands seem to be gripping and grasping at each other. Valentine’s knees buckled under the flurry of sensation, but Christopher caught her and carried her to the seating area around the fire place. A large open space was there before the fire with a wool and silk rug Christopher had found buried in a saleroom.   
Christopher knelt down and laid Valentine on the rug, their mouths never breaking from their kiss. They were frenzied in their need. Valentine reached for Christopher’s belt and pants, his hips naturally wedging themselves between Valentine’s legs. Her nightgown had ridden up to her waist, exposing her nakedness underneath. Christopher reached between them, stoking with his fingers between her legs, driving her mad with desire. Valentine unbuttoned his shirt, her clumsy hands fumbling with the buttons. How she longed to rip the fabric from his body. Christopher pulled the neckline of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing one full breast. Christopher’s mouth latched onto the nipple and sucked lovingly. He felt light drops of liquid fill his mouth. It was both exciting and amazing the experience. Valentine moaned softly at the feeling rolling through her body. How she wanted Christopher.  
She moved her hands back to his pants, seeking his manhood from within his pants and knickers. When Valentine’s hand wrapped around him, Christopher thought he would shame himself then and there, the sensation was so great. He groaned to control himself, but he paused and gazed softly into his lover’s eyes.  
“Are you sure, my dove? It has been only a few months since Alexander’s birth?” Christopher asked sincerely, his need barely in check.  
“Oh my dear, I have wanted you so for months now. Please take me. Take me here, now.” Valentine pleaded with Christopher urging him to make love to her. Christopher needed no more urging, he reached between them and positioned himself. He could feel her wetness, her readiness. He entered her with a swift thrust. They both gasped at the pleasure of it. Valentine wrapped her legs around his hips, moving with each thrust. Christopher braced his arms on either side of Valentine’s head, powerfully claiming her again and again. Valentine met him thrust for thrust, there on the floor of the living room. She wrapped her arms around his chest, pulling herself up to his elevated position. Their lips met as their bodies mated in an ancient dance.  
“Give me another baby, my love.” Valentine whispered sensuously into Christopher’s ear. Christopher’s response was a groan-growl and his thrusts became more urgent. Valentine could feel the pressure building in her womb. She could feel Christopher’s manhood go deeper inside her. Then she felt the release, the wondrous feeling drifting through her entire body, her soul. Christopher’s release came moments later, with a soft pulsing Valentine could feel deep within her. Valentine lay there, her half-clothed lover laying atop her. He made no motion to move, and she was inclined to let him lay there. She knew in that moment they would have another child. A silly notion to understand, but she knew. In 10 months she would have another child in her arms. The thought made her smile widely.  
Christopher lay atop Valentine feeling wonderfully sedated and peaceful. He looked to the rug beneath them and regretted the fact he had taken her so crudely on the floor. However, he smiled at the fact he would never be able to gaze upon the rug without thinking of this moment. An awkward situation for future entertainment they hosted. However, his soul had rejoiced at the words Valentine had whispered to him in the midst of their lovemaking. Yes, another child, he thought. Hopefully by the time it was born, Groby would be complete and it could be born there. Just as all other their future children would be.


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> July - December 1920

The repairs at Groby progressed at a brisk pace. As the weeks ticked by, Christopher had to spend more and more time away from London. He made an effort to come home as much as was possible, however, being a frugal man he tried to time it so he could be home for a longest period possible. The last big decision was where to place the new Groby tree on the property so it would be close to the house, but not interfere with the foundations now or in the future. Christopher had insisted that the cost was worth it and argue at length with his brother, Mark. Finally, he decided to engage and pay for the engineer himself. Once it was agreed where the tree would go, Mark had relented and repaid Christopher the cost. A tall, young cedar was located on the property and moving it would be the easiest and least costly option. However, the arbor wasn’t sure if the tree would survive the move. Mark advised that if the tree did not survive, then that was that, no replacement.  
With the tree situation resolved, Christopher decided to go back to London. Alexander was 9 months old now, and crawling and trying to talk, although most of the sounds were nonsensical baby talk. But both Valentine and Christopher thought they heard certain words like “Mama, Da.” Christopher reflected the last time he had played with Alexander and Michael in the living room of flat. Christopher seat on the floor watching his two sons play with each other. Michael brought toys to Alexander and Christopher watched in awe how smart his youngest son was.  
“Where’s the ball?” Michael asked, hopping around Alexander, who laughed excitedly, but then looked around and picked up a small rubber ball Michael had brought out. Alexander brought it to his mouth, then turned and crawled to Christopher, handing him the ball.  
“Thank you, Alexander.” Christopher responded taking the ball as the young toddler climbed up his father’s chest giggling and laughing.  
“Da! Da!” Alexander excitedly announced in his sweet baby voice. Christopher kissed his son’s cheek in response. Michael came back to his father and brother, a toy cow in his hand.  
“Father, watch!” Michael exclaimed. Michael had started to call Christopher “Father” verse “Daddy” the day after his tenth birthday, explaining that was getting too old to use the term. Christopher had just smiled and nodded in agreement as he realized his first born was growing up fast.   
“What does the cow say, Alex?” Michael asked his brother, showing Alexander the toy cow. Noticing the toy, Alexander abandoned his father. Michael handed the toy cow to his brother, who once again put it in his mouth.  
“What does the cow say?” Michael asked again.  
“Moooooo! Mooooo!” Alexander made the sounds of a cow, puckering his lips funnily. Michael laughed in earnest at the funny sound and his little brother. Christopher laughed with them, grabbing Michael and tickling him, Alex squealing in delight.  
It was memories like these that made coming home even more wonderful. And Valentine, ahhhh, sweet Valentine. She was a wonderful mother. Kind, gentle, loving, but firm when needed with the boys. She was still involved with her women’s groups and causes, but she made it her mission to teach her sons the respect and intelligence of women from a young age. Christopher agreed, but often wondered that once his sons were off at school if her teachings would be all but lost. He kept his thoughts to himself. The world was changing, and perhaps Valentine’s teaching would keep into adulthood. He, of course, agreed on many points about a woman’s ability, but still believed in a man’s responsibility to protect and care about women. Well, he was the last who probably thought that way, Christopher thought as the slowing of the train brought him out of his revelry.   
Christopher gathered his valise from the rack above the seat. He was excited to get home. It had been 3 weeks since he had seen his family. Christopher alighted from the train, moving swiftly down the platform. October 1920 was turning out to be warmer than normal, but still the evening was cool.   
“Christopher! Christopher!” Valentine called, waving, standing at the end of the train platform. Christopher smiled broadly as he saw his love standing there. She looked radiant in the fading sun. Her hair was pinned up in its typical fashion, and she wore the same serviceable purple coat she wore when he returned from the war. He moved quickly towards her through the crowd, her smile becoming broader as he approached. Valentine launched herself into his arms, surprising Christopher, who laughed at her exuberance.   
“Good evening, Miss Wannop.” His arm, still holding the valise, awkwardly coming up around Valentine to hold her for a moment, placing a light kiss to the top of her head. People passed by, some smiled, other looked at their public display in disapproval.   
“Oh, how I have missed you.” Valentine spoke into his coat.  
“And I you, my dove.” Christopher responded.  
Valentine pulled back from her embrace and peered up at her lover. Oh how she wanted to kiss him, but she knew it would not be right. Christopher smiled as he say a light in her eyes, a joy. It pleased him to know that she missed him so. After that night on the rug in the living room, they had resumed their love making with more regularity. Everything seemed perfect, nothing could make it any better, Christopher thought.  
“I did not expect you to meet me at the train.” Christopher explained.  
“I know. I just had to see you as soon as you arrived. Because I know as soon as you get home the boys will want you all to themselves.” Valentine smiled sweetly. “But I have wonderful news. I’m expecting another child Christopher.” Valentine explained enthusiastically. Christopher’s smile became even broader, and he dropped his valise, hugging Valentine in earnest, lifting her slightly from the ground. Too hell with what everyone thought!  
“Christopher, people will stare.” Valentine whispered through her giggles. Christopher replaced Valentine onto the ground gently, holding her hands, kissing each in reverence.  
“Let them stare. I don’t care. I’m to be a father again!” Christopher noted a little loudly. Valentine reached up on her tip toes to put her small hand over Christopher’s laughing mouth. They laughed again in joy. Christopher picked up his valise, and started to move forward, with Valentine hanging on his arm as they walked home.  
“When? When my child be with us?” Christopher asked as they walked quietly towards the flat.  
“Our Child. And probably May or June. I am hoping for May.” Valentine stated, smoothly her hand over her still flat belly. Christopher noticed the motion, and stroked Valentine’s hand lying on his arm in reassurance.  
Christopher did the calculations, and determined that Groby would probably be ready before that, provided the winter continued to be mild. He had not actually asked Valentine to move to Groby yet, nor had he asked her to marry him, both of which he had intended to do. With the exceptional news of another child coming, time was certainly of the essence. He need to do a few things before then.   
As expected, as soon as they arrived at the flat, Christopher was assaulted by a pair of boys who eagerly greeted their father home.  
A few days after his return from London, Christopher made is way to Mrs. Wannop’s home. He had seen her a few times in the past 2 years, once being at the birth of Alexander, and a few other times at the home when she was visiting Valentine. However, they had never been alone together since he had returned from the war. Even after Alexander’s birth, she had stayed with Valentine. He was unsure how to engage the mother of the woman he had essentially ruined. It was an uncomfortable situation, but one he had to resolve before he could take the next step in his relationship with Valentine.  
He reached the front gate of the small cottage. He had not called ahead, fearful of the response he would receive. He would rather face his chastisement in person, if one was to come. The creaking of the front gate announced his arrival, and he saw Mrs. Wannop looking through the window down at where he now stood. He paused, then entered the gate, moving with purpose to the front door of the small cottage.  
The front door opened widely, as Mrs. Wannop stood aside to allow him to enter. A good sign, Christopher thought.   
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Wannop. I know this may be unexpected, but I need to speak with you.” Christopher announced as he removed his hat. Mrs. Wannop closed the door softly, and reached for his hat and motioned for Christopher’s coat.  
“I was wondering how long it would be before you came to have a chat Christopher.” Mrs. Wannop spoke as if she had a sense he might come by, as she hung his coat and hat on the hook near the door. “Please have a seat. I’ll make some tea.” Mrs. Wannop offered the same seat he had always occupied in their previous discussions, and moved into the kitchen.   
Christopher lifted the china tea cup to his lips as he listened to Mrs. Wannop talk about her latest article.   
“But I am babbling on…I am sure that is not why you came by, but you are a dear to sit there and listen.” Mrs. Wannop stated lightly.  
“Mrs. Wannop, I wanted to talk with you about my intentions regarding your daughter.” Christopher stated seriously, replacing the teacup into its saucer and placing it on the table before him. “And I wanted to thank you for how supportive of Valentine, Michael, and Alexander.” Christopher purposely omitted himself.  
“Oh, well, that. What was I going to do? Turn away those sweet babies?” Mrs. Wannop asked curiously. Christopher seemed to breathe a bit easier at her light tone and acceptance. “And now another child! Oh, I am so excited.” Mrs. Wannop clapped her hands, so like how Valentine was want to do when excited about something.  
Christopher was not surprised that Mrs. Wannop was aware of her daughter’s condition.  
“Yes. I am very excited as well.” Christopher cleared his throat and sat up a bit straighter. “Mrs. Wannop, when Valentine and I… commenced our current relationship… it was my intention to live as honestly as I could with her. I realize that my marriage to Sylvia prevented me from living a truly honest life with your daughter. And for that, I do apologize.” Christopher took a deep breath. Mrs. Wannop smiled.  
“Well, there was nothing stopping my daughter from going to you. Believe me, my dear, I did try. I was not supportive at first, but after I saw how happy she was; how happy you made her. What could say? What could I do?” Mrs. Wannop acknowledged fairly.  
“However, now that I am…free…I would like to move Valentine and the children to Groby when the repairs are complete. Permanently.” Christopher paused as Mrs. Wannop sat back with a slightly shocked reaction. “And, I would like to ask for your blessing to marry your exceptional daughter.”  
Mrs. Wannop covered her mouth in shocked happiness at the gallantry she was witnessing. Her eyes filled with tears. Christopher reached across to take her hand that was lying on the table, clutching it softly and reassuringly.   
“Of course, you should also move back to Leicester to be close by. Valentine and the children would want you to be near.” Christopher stated kindly and with relief.  
“Oh, Christopher! Yes! Yes! You can marry my daughter.” Mrs. Wannop stood and embraced her future son-in-law. “Thank you! Thank you so much for…for everything.” Christopher continued to embrace her for a few more moments.  
Valentine entered the bedroom after nursing Alexander. Christopher was standing in the middle of the room in his typical pajamas and bare feet. He had his dark green dressing gown hanging loosely open, with his hands behind his back. He had a smirk on his face that was confusing to Valentine. She paused in the doorway looking curiously at his stance and smirk.  
“What are you about, Mr. Tietjens?” Valentine announced as she sauntered into the room, her robe covering her cotton nightgown as he moved. Christopher said nothing, just held out his hand for her, beaconing her to join him where he stood. Taking the bait, Valentine took his hand, after which he pulled her gently to stand in front of him, his other hand behind his back.  
“What have you got back there?” Valentine tried to peer behind her lover’s back, but he turned away from her playfully.  
“My dove, on our first night together I made a pledge to you. Do you remember?” Christopher asked sincerely.  
“On this night and every night after, I forsake all others expect for you. With these words, I pledge this for eternity. With my body, I will give you my soul for you to hold for as long as the Almighty allows. With all my love, I will give you my heart for you to make me whole once again.” Valentine repeated the words Christopher said to her that night.  
“Yes. And when you told me you were with child for the first time, I told you if I was free I would marry you.” Christopher repeated. Valentine’s breath caught at the realization, as Christopher went down on his knee. Christopher held Valentine’s left hand with his right, his left hand still behind him.  
“Miss Wannop, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Christopher asked expectantly as he gazed into Valentine’s happily tearful eyes. “And if you would do me that honor, would you live with me at Groby Hall until we are old and gray?” Christopher pulled his left hand in front of him with a skeleton key to a front door on a red ribbon attached to it.  
Valentine smiled and nodded silently. “Yes. Mr. Tietjens, I will be your wife and we will live with you at Groby, forever.” Valentine took the key from his hand and kissing and embracing her Christopher in bliss.  
The move from London to Groby was frenetic. There was much to do, and with Valentine’s increasing girth her abilities were limited at best. Valentine and Christopher agreed that the wedding would be best held after the birth. And the additional time would allow for the death of Sylvia to pass further into history. A small country wedding was planned, but there was more important things to worry about at this point.  
Valentine, 6 months pregnant, paused at the archway of the now empty flat’s living area, remembering. This is where they had started their life. Where she gave her innocence to him. She had always thought this is where they would end. But now, with her 2nd child growing she was going to a place she thought she never possible. It was bittersweet to gaze upon the flat. Oh how it looked like when she had come to Christopher when he returned from the war. Had that been less than 3 years ago, she thought. She wished Christopher was here to walk with her out of the place where they had finally consummated their love for each other. She didn’t want to leave this place, but they could not keep both. She worried that things might never be the same after they left this place, perhaps for the good, maybe for the bad. It remained to be seen. But she was confident that as long as Christopher and her were together, nothing that terrible. Could it?


	14. A New Family at Groby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1920 - May 7, 1921

The trip up to Groby Hall was uneventful. Christopher and Grayson, the head butler, meet his family to their new home. Christopher greeted Valentine and Michael warmly, but Alexander would not be denied his father’s attention. Christopher took his young son from Marchie who was having difficulty keeping him in her arms. Christopher lifted the exuberant son into his arms, but put his hand on Michael’s shoulder to ensure he did not feel left out. Valentine smiled and wondered at her good fortune.  
Christopher loaded his family into the Renault GS car that had been used at Groby, however a horse cart took the luggage along with Marchie and Maddie. Maddie had been extremely excited about the move to Groby and happy Valentine and Christopher had decided to keep her on. Michael spoke excitedly to Maddie explaining all the wonderful things at Groby while they were on the train, who listen patiently.  
Christopher sat next Valentine as the vehicle moved down the road through town. Valentine did not live far from Groby, but she had truly never been there that she can remember. Her mother remarked that she and her father had gone to Groby when Valentine was young, but Valentine did not remember. Valentine watched as they moved through town, people waving to them as they travelled. Michael waved and Christopher quietly acknowledged them. The town seem to know that the new Tietjens family had finally arrived. Valentine felt a bit self-conscious. It was easy in London to dismiss the society that both engaged them and snubbed them simuteantously. But here, in Leicester, where she had grown up it was less easy to not feel like she was doing something untoward. Christopher must have noticed Valentine’s silence, and silently squeezed her hand he held in reassurance.  
The car pulled out onto the main road, it would not be long before they turned up the drive to Groby Hall. Valentine’s heart started to race. She had never dreamed that one day she would be here, that Christopher would be able to bring her here. She closed her eyes to calm her heart and mind, but all she could imagine was the moment so long ago when they had ridden through the midst and found each other in the process. The moment she had stated Christopher would never take her to Groby. It made her sad to think how long they had to wait to finally be together. The car slowed and started to turn and she knew they had arrived. Michael clapped and pointed at the new look of the hall. Valentine opened her eyes and her breath caught in her chest at the beautiful hall.  
Groby Hall was a home in an Italianate baroque style mansion. The formal garden at Groby is the epitome of English landscape gardening that was so popular in the 18th century. Like many similar landscape gardens, there are neo-classical temples carefully placed at advantageous spots, acting as focal points for avenues of trees. The main temple are the Doric Temple and the Ionic Temple. The home itself was two-story having an east and west wing with stately and tall windows. A set of double stone steps framed the front of the home that lead to a stately front terrace and a grand arched doorway. Valentine had seen the home from far away, but never as a place would she live.  
The car pulled to the front and stopped, the horse cart pulling in a few minutes later. Michael jumped out boisterously and Christopher was want to reprimand him, however Valentine stopped him. Alexander seeing his older brother running about wanted down to the ground. Alexander started to walk a few weeks before, but was still unsteady, however he would not be denied. Valentine smiled as Christopher finally relented and allowed him out of his arms.  
Valentine exited the car, looking expectantly. Christopher was caught between watching Alexander and helping Valentine. He wished Marchie was there, but was relieved when he saw Valentine exit without issue and Marchie in the horse cart coming up the drive. Michael ran to the horse cart.  
“Marchie! We’re home!” Michael called as he ran.  
“Be careful Michael!” Valentine called nervously as she tried to snatch him as he ran by. Christopher was watching Alexander walk and bounce about trying to walk about. It gave him great joy to see his young child growing so beautifully. Valentine, on the other hand, looked a bit green around the gills as she peered at the stately home. Christopher was grateful that Marchie had arrived to take over monitoring Alexander’s movements so he could check on Valentine.  
“Are you alright?” Christopher asked sweetly and with concern. He embraced her lovingly, his hand going to her softly rounded belly. Valentine’s gaze never wavered from looking to Groby Hall.  
“It’s beautiful. Oh Christopher…I never dreamed I would ever be here…with you.” Valentine stated sincerely, then looking to the children playing. “With them.” Christopher kissed Valentine’s temple softly, still holding her gently. It was then that Valentine saw the tree stump. She moved out to Christopher’s embrace towards the stump. Christopher followed behind.  
“I thought you…I thought it would have been removed.” Valentine whispered, gazing at the sorry sight. She remembered Christopher telling her how upset he had been when he saw the tree had been felled. But yet, it was this last offense committed by Sylvia that finally convinced Christopher that is marriage was over. Christopher rested his hands on Valentine’s shoulders, standing behind her.  
“It could not be moved without causing further damage to the foundations.” Christopher explained, massaging Valentine’s stiff shoulders with his hands.  
“So it will be a constant reminder of what she did to you.” Valentine stated absently. Christopher turned Valentine to face him.  
“No, it will not be a reminder of what she did. It will be a reminder of what once was, and a reminder of what I have gained.” Christopher reminded Valentine, a half smile gracing is face. Valentine stroked his cheek softly in appreciation.  
“Christopher…I…I…” Valentine stumbled to say what she need to say. “I don’t know if I belong here.” Valentine whispered with watery eyes, her hands shaking slightly. Christopher reached up to take his lover, no his wife in practice if not by law, Christopher thought. That issue would be rectified shortly.  
“You do belong here. You have always belonged here. I knew it that day after our ride in the midst, it just took me a bit to realize it.”  
Valentine smiled widely at her Christopher, soon her husband. He too had been thinking about their ride in the midst. Christopher offered his arm to Valentine to escort her into her new home. The children, Marchie and Maddie had already ascended the stairs and were waiting on the terrace. Grayson was also waiting, watching Valentine and Christopher. His knowing smile showing as he watched. As Christopher and Valentine stepped to the doorway, Christopher paused, Valentine looked to him curiously. Without a word, Christopher swept Valentine into his arms and carried into her new home like a new bride. Valentine squealed in delight, both boys laughing enthusiastically at their parent’s lively display. Maddie and Marchie exchanged looks that said they had seen such behavior before.  
The interior of Groby was a stylish and classic as the exterior. Valentine gazed in awe at the gallery of paintings and portraits on the walls, the fine furnishings, the beautiful flooring. It was all so overwhelming. Michael did not seem to notice, but he recognized the newness and some of the upgrades, including the electrical light switches on the walls. The old Groby Hall had some rooms with electricity, but not all the bedrooms upstairs did, a fact often lamented by Sylvia.  
“Valentine, come and see.” Michael pulled Valentine towards the rear of the entrance hall. “See that is father when he was my age.” Michael pointed to a family portrait on the wall. Valentine looked at the picture. It included both of Christopher’s parents, Christopher at about ten years old, Mark and Effie, both teenagers. The likeness between Christopher and Michael was uncanny.  
“Don’t we look much alike? Father and I?” Michael asked keenly. Christopher had joined them at this point, peering over Valentine’s shoulder. Valentine still held Michael’s hand.  
“You are the very picture of you father, Michael. Both so handsome!” Valentine assured him. He seemed to like her response and let go of her hand to run to Marchie.  
Christopher slowly ushered Valentine through the parlor, the drawing room, the formal dining room, living room, the study, and Christopher’s office. All were beautifully and tastefully furnished.  
“Grayson would you please show Maddie the servants area in the back.” Christopher asked the head butler, who graciously ushered the awe struck Maddie into the back area of the house. “Marchie, bring the boys up, will you. I want to show them their new rooms.”  
Marchie gathered up the boys and started to follow Christopher and Valentine. They reached the second level, Christopher moved to the left and there was three large rooms off the hallway, the first being Michael’s room, the second and third rooms filled with toys denoting it as the nursery for both boys. The furniture from London had been arranged nicely, although the size of the furniture did not quite match the size of room. Still it worked and made Valentine happy to see Alexander recognize his toys and play things. Christopher ushered Valentine quietly away while the Alexander was distracted. Perhaps it was it was due to the move, but Alexander had become increasingly attached to Valentine to the point of crying when he noticed she was gone for a long time.  
Valentine and Christopher drifted silently back to the stairs and then off the right. Christopher opened a set of double doors and walked into a very large main bed chamber. There was a small intimate sitting area by the fire, their mahogany bed from London was placed perfectly nearby, and the living area rug they had made love on was placed before the fire as well.  
“This is amazing. It’s so perfect. Everything.” Valentine skipped excitedly into Christopher’s waiting arms. She reached up on her tip toes and kissed him so sweetly, but then the kiss turned intense, with their mouths mating. Christopher pulled Valentine closer, his arms around her waist and her arms around his shoulders. Their kissing continued for a few minutes, their bodies responding. Neither heard nor saw the wide eyes of Michael standing in the doorway, watching them. Christopher noticed him out of the corner of his eye and slowly stopped kissing his lovely Valentine, who moaned sulkily when Christopher stopped.  
“Why did you stop?” Valentine whispered seductively, her eyes still closed as she continued to seek out Christopher’s affections.  
“We have a visitor, my dove.” Christopher answered softly, his arms resting on Valentine’s waist. Valentine stopped her erotic assault on her lover’s senses, and glancing in shock at where Christopher was looking.  
“I’m sorry.” Michael spoke with uncertainty. “Alex is crying. Marchie thinks is because Valentine left the room and I don’t like it when he cries like that.”  
Valentine extracted herself reluctantly from Christopher’s embrace. She ducked her head in slight embarrassment, smoothing her dress out.  
“I’ll just go check on Alexander.” She spoke softly. Christopher smiled sweetly at her embarrassment of being caught, Christopher rather enjoyed the thought his son had been able to see how happy people showed each other affection. Lord knows he and Sylvia had never showed anything of the sort. Still he needed to address any questions Michael had.  
“Come here, ol’ fellow.” Christopher beckoned his oldest son, showing him to the overstuffed chairs before the fire. Michael obeyed and sat in the chair as his father took the chair opposite him.  
“I hope you aren’t angry with me.” Michael asked expectantly.  
“No. I am not angry with you. But I am concerned at your manners. It is not proper for you to enter a bed chamber without knocking.” Christopher stated sternly.  
“I would have, but the door was open.” Michael answered.  
“I understand. But you understand that what Valentine and I were doing was of a private nature and….well, you should always announce your presence, Michael.”  
“Yes, sir.” Michael looked as if he was thinking.  
“You have questions?” Christopher asked seeing his son’s confusion.  
“Is that how babies get inside Valentine? When you kiss like that and stand real close?” Michael asked honestly. Christopher cleared his throat a bit, insure what to say.  
“Ummm, well it’s not quite…what makes you think that is how babies are made?” Christopher asked curiously.  
“Ben, my friend, he told me that babies are made when a man and woman hold each other very close and kiss for a long time. I just thought….Valentine already has a baby inside her, why would you want to have another in her?”  
Christopher smiled a bit, is unease receding a bit. “Michael, perhaps it is time we had a talk about this. You see, Valentine cannot become with child from kissing and standing close to me. It is much more than that.” Christopher leaned forward to be sure he held Michael’s attention.  
“Oh, well that is good. I can’t imagine two babies being in there! She might explode. But you said there was more to it. What else do you do to make a baby?” Michael asked curiously. Christopher rubbed his now sweating hands on his upper thighs.  
“How about a spot of air while we chat? Then we can chat in private.” Christopher rose to exit the room. He was nervous about the subject but decided it was only natural for his son to be curious. And Valentine and he would not want him growing up learning things this important through half measures.

A few hours later the sun had set, Christopher returned to his bedroom. Dinner had been served, but Marchie had indicated that Valentine was not hungry and that Alexander remained fussy. Finally much later Christopher arrived in the nursery seeing Valentine sitting by Alexander’s crib, her hand silently stroking his back as he slept. Christopher saw her raw face and her red eyes. She had been crying, hard and for some time, he could tell. He moved into the room and gazed into the crib, nothing seemed amiss. Christopher urged Valentine up from her post by Alexander’s sleeping form.  
“No. I don’t want to leave him.” Valentine moaned sadly and quietly. Christopher undeterred continued to urge her from the nursery.  
“You need to rest. He is well. Come. Come to bed.” Christopher urged with great concern, He knew nothing of what was happening. Clearly something was amiss and he needed to find out what. Christopher guided Valentine toward their bed chamber, Valentine looked back to the nursery room, the low light shining softly into the hallway.  
“It’s too far…”Valentine stated absently looking back at the nursery room light. “He’s too far away from me. I won’t be able to hear him…” Valentine urged almost frantically to Christopher. He had never seen Valentine is such a frantic state, and it concerned him greatly.  
“It’s no further than when we were at the flat in London.” Christopher noted soothingly, guiding Valentine into the bed room, to the waiting chair before the fire.  
“But, we aren’t in the flat in London.” Valentine stated as Christopher knelt before his love. In the light of the fully lit bed room, Valentine appearance was more disconcerting. Christopher stroked Valentine’s face in concern.  
“Valentine, what is it? Tell me.” Christopher begged Valentine, who had fresh tears and sobs start again. Her state was beginning to scare him, for her and the baby with her health. “My dove, you are starting to frighten me.” Valentine shook her head is distress as she cried as if her heart had been broken. He had never seen Valentine cry like this. She was always so light hearted.  
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Valentine sobbed and took a deep breath trying to control her emotions. “It’s been such a rough few days, for me.” Valentine looked soulfully into Christopher’s eyes. Christopher just sat and waiting patiently, still confused. “My emotions have been in such a state. I wished you could have been there with me when I left the flat in London. So many memories we made there, our first night together, Alexander…I felt like I was abandoning something so precious.” Valentine stoke honestly.  
“Oh my dove, we shall make new memories. Better memories. Here at Groby.” Christopher assured her, kissing her with passion to assuage her tangled emotions.  
“And then Alexander…” Valentine moaned distressingly.  
“What of Alexander? He is fine, perfect.” Christopher stated with kindness.  
“No. Alexander won’t nurse anymore, but he wants to, but then when he does he fusses and cries. He’s so miserable at times.” Valentine sobbed, watching Christopher face change with concern.  
“He must be ill. He’s never had a problem nursing before.” Christopher stated pointedly, real concern in his voice.  
“No. I took him to Dr. Foster before we came to Groby. He says that perhaps because I am pregnant again, my milk does not taste the same. He says he’s seen it before. Alexander doesn’t need me anymore.” Valentine smiled sadly as tears streamed down her face. Christopher kissed her tears away, stroking her face in reverence.  
“He will always need you. I will always need you.” Christopher stated softly. “What can be done to help him?” Christopher asked  
“He’s too young to be full weaned, but Dr. Foster stated that he can be moved to a bottle.” Valentine stated seeing Christopher’s uncertainty. “Dr. Foster assures me that it is completely safe. Marchie has all the items needed, I was just hoping…”  
Christopher smiled softly. “Well, at least now I can get up to feed him and you can sleep.” Valentine laughed through her tears, nodding in agreement. “And I can feel some of the joy of caring for my son the way you did.” Christopher stated intently. “I think I shall like that.”

Several weeks past and everyone began to settle in to their new home agreeably. Valentine and Michael walked to the new Groby tree that had been planted on the grounds. Michael had been excited to place the first bauble, a small string of glass beads that he had given to Valentine when he first come to live in London, on the tree in order to restart the tradition.  
Alexander slowly started to accept being bottle fed verse nursed by Valentine. This fact helped Valentine accept this new reality and it helped that Christopher took great joy in caring for his young son in the evening which allowed Valentine to rest a bit more with her increasing pregnancy.  
Christopher brought Valentine up to speed about the income Groby generated. Valentine was surprised to discover that the estate had several coal veins which had been tapped to provide support for the vast estate. There was livestock and tenant farmers to be dealt with, and Christopher had discovered that the estate was not being properly overseen. No surprise since Sylvia had left the entire estate to be run by the parkland overseer, whom had joined the staff at Groby shortly before his father’s death. Overall the estate was still solvent when Christopher returned, but now it was becoming more profitable since he had taken over. This was a great point of pride for Christopher, and Mark was even more pleased.  
Christopher entered the bed chamber and noticed Valentine reviewing some papers he had left on the side table by the fire. Mostly financial accountings of Groby, but there were other passbook entries indicated, which perplexed Valentine as she looked at them. Christopher smiled as he watched Valentine continue to study the papers, beginning to remove his working clothing. Valentine finally noticed his entry, glancing up as he started to disrobe, she beamed as she noticed his practical work clothes. How different he looked when he wore the serviceable clothing of a country gentleman, tending his estate verse the elegant tuxedoed gentleman she had seen in London so many times. He wore a tweed coat and pant, a cotton button down shirt, and his military service boots. He sat on the bed to pull the boots off, having difficulty. Valentine, seeing his difficulty, set the papers aside and walked to him to assist. Valentine bent to take his right boot in her hands.  
“No, no, my dear. You might hurt yourself.” Christopher protested as he tried to pull his foot from her grasp.  
“Christopher, let me help you. I am not made of porcelain.” Valentine reminded Christopher, pulling gently on the boot until it came loose. Christopher breathed a silent sigh at the cool air on his stocking foot. She repeated her effort on the left leg, a satisfied smile drifting across Valentine’s face as she stood up straight.  
“Thank you, my dove. But it I who should be helping you.” Christopher stated as his hand stroked her round belly. Valentine drifted forward between Christopher’s outstretched legs, stroking and threading her right hand through Christopher’s hair, kissing his temple thoughtfully. Christopher’s eyes drifted shut in pleasure.  
“You already do.” Valentine looked at her man, her fiancé. She moved back to the chair near the fire, picking up the papers once again. Christopher continued changing his clothes as he watched her concentrate.  
“Why are there entries in this passbook to a security fund? What is the security fund?” Valentine asked curiously to Christopher.  
“The security fund is just that, a fund for security. For you and our children, if anything were to happen to me.” Christopher stated blandly.  
“Is that really necessary? I mean…” Valentine asked again, following Christopher as he exited the bed room and entered the dressing/bath room to continue changing for the night.  
“It is necessary. The estate is essentially entirely Michael’s if something happened to me. As such, I do not want you to be concerned for any reason regarding your security or future.” Christopher called from the dressing room.  
“This is a very large sum in this passbook. It’s too much. I’ve never had that much money.” Valentine stated as she looked at the sum listed. It would set her up very nicely and if handled properly, for the rest of her life. Christopher re-entered the bed chamber wearing his pajamas and dressing gown.  
“My dove, the money you saved are included in that sum, plus the results of YOUR investment in Mr. Hollingsworth’s business, which continues to generate positive cash flow and investment. I have not given you anything you have not earned yourself.” Christopher lightly brushed Valentine’s shoulder in encouragement, sitting across from her.  
“Really? This is all from my money and investment?” Valentine pressed, skeptical. Christopher picked up a newspaper he had not been able to read that morning, hiding his face.  
“Well, perhaps I did supplement a bit…” Christopher stated from behind the newspaper. Valentine smiled coyly and returned to the papers.  
“All those numbers make my eyes hurt. It’s a wonder you are not cross eyed.” Valentine stated as she placed the papers back in a neat stack in the folder. Christopher laughed softly at Valentine. Valentine leaned back in the chair, lightly stroking her distended stomach, feeling the activity of the baby. A comfortable silence settled between them.  
“How was Alexander tonight?” Valentine asked softly, a bit anxiously. Christopher hearing the slight anxiety in her voice, closed the newspaper  
“He was very good. Seemed a bit more sleepy than usual.” Christopher stated lightly. Valentine left the evening feeding for Christopher, but she still had lingering emotions about his rejection of nursing from her breast. Christopher was aware it hurt her, but Marchie assured him once the new baby arrived Valentine would be back to her normal self. He recalled the conversation just the other evening.  
Christopher carefully placed a sleeping Alexander into his crib. The child had eaten greedily from the bottle as Christopher held him. It was a joy for Christopher to feed his son, but he knew that it pained Valentine to know she was no longer needed by him for his sustenance.  
“He sleeps so well, now that you are feeding him, Mr. Christopher.” Marchie noted as she watched Christopher handle his young son. “That’s not say he didn’t sleep well with Valentine. But, I think he likes having you here.” Marchie smiled soothingly.  
“Thank you, Marchie. But I fear that Valentine’s melancholy is affecting her more than I care for. I fret that the baby she carries may be affected.” Christopher stated solemnly as he placed the soft blanket over Alexander.  
“Oh, I won’t worry about it too much Mr. Christopher. It’s just a transition. It’s just a bit sooner than usual. And you can’t discount everything else that has occurred in the last few months.” Marchie stated as they exited the nursery quietly, Christopher listening to his former nanny’s counsel. “Begging your pardon, sir, but the move, the changes, the impending wedding…All happy events, but still it can be wearing even on someone as vibrant as Miss Wannop.” Marchie remarked on the Valentine’s almost continuous energy. Christopher nodded and paused, glancing to the bed chamber light shining from the slightly ajar doorway. Christopher placed his hand lightly on Marchie’s shoulder in appreciation.  
“She’ll be fine, Mr. Christopher. I have no doubts.”  
“Thank you, Marchie. For your counsel and your faith that always can be relied upon.”  
“You don’t know how glad it make my old heart to see you, and Michael, happy, Mr. Christopher. Good night.”  
“Good night, Marchie.”  
Christopher’s musing returned to his young lover before him, seeing her soft face and kind eyes. How he wished they could be intimate, but he was worried about the child growing within her. Calming his inappropriate thoughts, he rose from the chair.  
“Come to bed. It’s late.”  
Valentine and Christopher climbed into their bed, snuggling down under the covers. Valentine moved closer to Christopher’s side, her arm draped across his shoulders. Christopher kissed her hand softly, but Valentine had other ideas.  
Valentine drifted her hand down Christopher’s chest and under the covers to rest on Christopher slightly aroused manhood. Christopher was a bit surprised by Valentine’s forwardness, but was unable to say anything before Valentine did.  
“Mr. Tietjens, my goodness. I am shocked at your current state.” Valentine stated seductively as her hand stroked Christopher’s manhood in earnest over his pajama bottoms. Christopher sighed and moaned at her administrations to his body. But he was concerned about where it would lead.  
“Valentine, don’t….I don’t think it is proper for us to be intimate given the advanced state of your pregnancy.” Christopher stated between kisses as Valentine started to kiss him softly.  
“But I want you. I want to make you feel good.” Valentine stated seductively into Christopher’s ear, her hand creeping under Christopher’s pajama bottoms and into his knickers. Christopher’s body was responding to her.  
“I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.” Christopher moaned in a pained whispered. He wanted his Valentine so desperately. Valentine’s soft touches and kisses were driving him wild.  
“You won’t hurt me, or the baby. I know a way.” Valentine stated keenly. Valentine had been told in hushed whispers at one of her women’s meetings what she could do to be intimate with her husband without hurting the baby, or when not pregnant, how not to get pregnant, although not fool proof.  
Valentine moved down Christopher’s body, pulling back the blankets. Valentine slowly removed the pajama bottoms and knickers, exposing Christopher’s engorged manhood to her eyes. Valentine, slowly placed her mouth around his shaft and started to move up and down. Christopher almost came off the bed in shock, surprise, and ecstasy.  
“Oh god, Valentine. Ohhh…..” Christopher moaned in trance, his hands gripping the bed clothes. She slowly pumped her hand and mouth in unison. Christopher felt himself grow inside Valentine’s mouth, the pleasure increasing with each pump and suck. Valentine could feel the excitement and pleasure radiating from her lover’s body. It was wonderful to know she was making him feel good as evidenced by his moans and breathing. The ladies from her women’s group had assured her that it was a wonderful way to make your man happy, and they were right. However, her body was beginning to respond as well. It was amazing to feel.  
“Val…Valentine stop. I do not…want to dishonor myself.” Christopher begged. Valentine removed her mouth, but her hand continued to pump softly.  
“There is no dishonor in this, my love.” Valentine assured Christopher as she continued her movements. Christopher decided he could not win. The feeling was too intense and how he wanted to be inside her. But he could not, would not. So this was what it would be. He decided to let his barely held in check control go. Valentine seeing his relent, placed her mouth around his shaft once again, pumping and sucking earnestly. It did not take very long, but Christopher held back.  
“I’m….I’m….ahhhh…almost……almost…” Christopher mumbled in heated response. Valentine recognized his body’s response more than his words. She removed her mouth once again, but pumped her hand up and down. Suddenly, whitish, milky liquid filled her hand and fell on Christopher’s belly, accompanied by Christopher low groan-growl of release. She slowed her hand, but Christopher stopped her motion with his own hand. Christopher slowly pulled Valentine up his body, pulling her mouth to his, kissing her ravenous.  
“Where did you learn that my little minx?” Christopher stated through shaky breaths and kisses. Valentine giggled in response, not telling him anything.  
“A lady never kisses and tells.” Valentine whispered and yelped as Christopher rolled her onto her back.  
“However, little minx, two can play at that game.” Christopher stated seductively, his hand running up her calf and thigh, lifting her cotton nightgown, exposing her womanhood. Valentine hoped he would do this, since he had done it before. He placed his hand on her mound, softly stroking his long fingers against her wet entrance. He pushed one finger into her, her gasp of pleasure all the encouragement he needed to continue. He slipped his finger out brought it to his mouth, sucking on it sensuously, wetting it carefully. He re-entered her delicately, pushing two fingers into her womanhood, stretching her luxuriously. He moved her nightgown off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his mouth. He sucked upon each breast intensely, using his tongue and teeth to bring her nipple to a tight bud. Valentine stroked and threaded her hands through Christopher’s golden hair. Christopher continued to pump his fingers into Valentine, increasing the pleasure. Valentine loved the feeling, but she not satisfied, she wanted Christopher inside her.  
“Christopher, I want you. I want you inside me.” Valentine begged. Christopher wanted Valentine, but he was unsure.  
“I know…I know a way. I promise you won’t hurt me.” Valentine pleaded. Christopher seemed to yield, leaning back as Valentine rose up. He thought she might ride him as she was want to do at times, and which he loved immensely. But instead she moved back against him, putting her behind up against his exposed manhood. She brought his hands to her waist, and leaned her bottom back against him. His body seemed to know what to do, and then Christopher realized what she was showing him. He was unsure, conflicted. His body told him to take her, but his mind warred against that thought.  
“I promise. I’ll tell you if….” Valentine whispered, urging and encouraging Christopher. Christopher’s body won, and he positioned himself at her now extremely wet entrance. Valentine almost cry out in desire as Christopher shaft entered her from behind. Christopher himself groaned. Valentine seemed to go limp and knelt forward as Christopher slowly moved. Even though he had found his release earlier, his body was rejuvenated by the excitement of the moment. He continued to pump into Valentine, his movement becoming more intense, more forceful, but not tough. Valentine moaned softly as she felt the pleasure building deep inside her. It was incredible and intense. Valentine started to move back in unison with Christopher’s movements, the emotion increasing for both of them. It was a matter of moments before Valentine started to pant breathlessly, her body reflexively responding to her orgasm. Valentine’s orgasm set Christopher over the edge and he found his release.  
Christopher could barely move afterward. Valentine finally moved forward and sideways, rolling to her side in limp satisfaction. Christopher lay down next to her, facing her, his eyes closed in desire. Valentine stroked his face softly, causing Christopher’s pleasure-filled eyes to open.  
“Thank you.” Valentine stated sweetly, sincerely.  
“I think I now know what I would like to do with your more often, pregnant or no.” Christopher stated quietly, a smirk appearing on his face. Valentine giggled softly and kissed him in response, a contented smile gracing her face.

Daniel William George Tietjens was born eight weeks later in an uncomplicated delivery. He was a healthy 18kg child. And both parents were in awe that the Lord had given them yet another son. Perhaps their new favorite love making position would assist in giving Valentine a baby girl in the future, Christopher thought with a smirk as he held his newborn son in his arms.


	15. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 11, 1921

The wedding had been planned for September to allow Valentine to recover from Daniel’s birth. Valentine had originally wanted to have it in November to coincide with Armistice Day, however a wedding in winter would not allow them to benefit from the new Groby Tree, which both Christopher and Valentine wanted to incorporate into their wedding. Christopher’s sister, Effie, her husband was the local parson, and he would perform the marriage ceremony. It was originally planned to be a fairly small country affair, however it soon became apparent that much of the Yorkshire and London ton were anxious to see if they would be invited to the most scandalous happening in recent memory. A gentleman was to make his mistress as his lawful wife, before God and society.   
“I don’t know if I want ‘them’ here. To gape and gawk at us.” Valentine stated as she listened to Christopher regal her of stories that Mark had been telling him over the last few days. “And I don’t care if they badgering Mark for assurances of an invite. They can all sod off for all I care!” Christopher’s eyebrow came up in surprise at her language.   
“Let them spread their vicious rumors somewhere else. I will not have our special day appropriated for the gossips.” Valentine rose from her seat on the sofa in Christopher’s study. The clock on the mantle striking 10 pm. All the children were long abed, and Christopher continued to review correspondence at his desk, which had been his father’s before that. Valentine walked to the desk, walking around it to stand next to Christopher, who paused his reading to look up at his future wife. Valentine toyed with a ribbon on her dark dress, leaning against the edge of the desk, looking pensive.  
“Oh, Christopher. We have waited so long for this day. A day neither of us ever thought would ever happen.”  
“I understand your concerns, my dove. And you are of course correct in your assumption that our wedding will be much talked about. But, you will be officially becoming the lady of this estate, and I would have you be recognized as such. Inviting ‘them,’ as you put it, is therefore a necessary evil. It is as distasteful to me as to you. But this is how things are done. At least for now.” Christopher gazed up to Valentine, who continued to toy with the ribbon nervously.  
“Perhaps it will be different when the boys marry.” Valentine countered reflectively, hopefully.  
“Yes, I do hope that by that time comes around…” Christopher did not finish his sentence because truthfully there was a certain comfort in the old ways, as maddening as they could be. It was the only world he had ever know and even he felt out of place at times. He hoped that his sons would not feel the same loneliness he had felt most of his life, hoped they would not sense that somehow they were different. The start of their young lives, with Michael patronage called into question and Alexander and Daniel’s birth occurring outside of marriage, was not a promising start. The thought brought a scowl to Christopher’s visage.  
“Alright, if only to stop them from harassing poor Mark. We can invite a few of them, but just enough to make it acceptable.” Valentine pushed away from the edge of the desk. “And they can’t stay here at Groby. They’ll need to find lodging somewhere else. I don’t want them under roof so long to say, they saw this and heard that. Ridiculous.” Valentine returned to her seat on the sofa, picking up the book she was reading. “I’ll leave it you to decide who is the least obnoxious of the punch to invite.” Christopher chuckled in response.  
The week of the wedding arrived quicker that anyone had anticipated. And the day of the wedding was there in flash. The house was filled to capacity, with some of the servants bunking up to make room. Valentine thanked the Lord her mother had come up a few days before hand and was marshalling everything so Valentine would not be so frazzled. Still, Valentine and Christopher did not get much rest in the days before the wedding.  
Even though the bride and groom had already been intimate with each other, judging by the two little boys playing in the nursery, Mrs. Wannop insisted that they sleep separately for the few days prior to the wedding. And truth be told, with everything happening, they saw very little of each other during the time leading up to the wedding. The only regular time they were able to see each other was at dinner time. Neither wanted to be separated from the other, but they relented to make Valentine’s mother happy.   
The morning of the wedding was overcast and a bit dreary. Valentine’s mother fretted over if there would be rain.  
“It is alright mother. The tree will provide some cover if the rain begins.” Valentine stated to reassure her mother, who was looking out the window, scanning the sky, for the 900th time that morning.  
“But what of the guests? There are 300 people to be in attendance. If the rain comes they will all scatter like rats.” Mrs. Wannop stated pointedly. Rats indeed, Valentine thought. About two-thirds of the people in attendance were actual friends or family of Christopher or Valentine. A few of Christopher’s army buddies had arrived, she heard them in the gallery rowdily greeting Christopher. Oh how she missed him these past days, Valentine thought, waiting to go down and be with him. A few of Valentine’s suffragette friends, Margaret from the girl’s school, and few others from London, arrived and came upstairs to greet her as she prepared for the wedding. Other than that about two dozen distant cousins and local gentry, the rest were ‘them.’ They included General Campion, naturally since he was Christopher’s Commanding Officer, Lady Claudine, his sister, Glorvina, Lord Biechin, and sadly, Edith Duchemin. Edith had arrived with Vincent Macmaster, as guest of the groom, officially. It was a snub by Valentine, and Christopher understood. Macmaster was a good man and friend to Christopher and for that she had agreed to invite them both. But it pained Valentine to think that Edith was not the same sweet, caring person she had known years before.  
Valentine gazed at herself in the mirror as the final touches were completed on her wedding dress. There would be no white dress for this wedding. Valentine had so loved the dress she had purchased for her and Christopher’s first public night out, she decided to have a similar dress made but with a slight silvery and blue tone to it. The skirt of the dress was triple-tiered and was made of luxurious and richly decorated silvery white matte silk with a silver gray net overlay embroidered with silver gilt thread and bugle beads. Instead of a dark red bodice, it was a beautiful silver and white Chantilly lace. The sleeves had strings of silver gilt pearls and beads which matched the fabric and design of the skirt. The dress had a longer train than the dress before and allowed the dress to sway softly. Valentine’s hair was upswept with large silver and diamond combs on either side holding her silver waist length veil in place. The combs were very old-fashioned, but they were Mrs. Wannop’s from her wedding, and Valentine had always dreamed of using them in her wedding one day. And that day was today.   
She would not cover her face as she walked to Christopher. She wanted to see him. She was no virgin bride, and everyone knew it, so she decided to embrace the reality. A smile crept up face with a knowing smirk. She would give them something to talk about. Especially since Marie, Mark’s French mistress, would be her maid of honor.   
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Mark announced as Christopher adjusted his silver gilt striped tie. Undoubtedly meant to compliment the bride’s dress, Christopher thought as he gazed in the mirror. Christopher was dressed in a dark grey tweed suit, which fit his frame expertly. The suit was a gift from Mark from his favorite tailor in London. No top hat this time, Christopher thought, Valentine wished to keep things simple.   
“Of course I want to go through with it.” Christopher stated incredulously as he pulled on the cuffs of his crisp white shirt, adding the silver cufflinks to the ready-made holes there.  
“Oh bugger all you damn happiness. For sure, Marie will want to get married now.” Mark complained as he moved around the dressing room. “I had to buy her a diamond choker from Tiffany’s to get her off the whole baby kick.”  
“Is that what a baby is going for nowadays? A diamond choker?” Christopher asked sarcastically.  
“Piss off! It was almost 15 carats in diamonds! Cost me a small fortune.” Mark glanced out the window, Christopher snickering at Mark’s continued ranting. “Not that I mind. The estate is in the right hands now. At least I can say that.” Mark commented. It was the closest thing to a compliment Christopher was going to get from his half-brother.  
Christopher finished dressing and paused next to Mark as they started for the door.  
“I don’t think I ever thanked you, for everything you did.” Christopher stated solemnly to his half-brother, knowing what he meant. “I am glad you were there for Valentine, during the war, even if I was too faint-hearted to be. And I glad you are here today, to walk with Valentine in lieu of her father.” Christopher reached out his right hand to shake Mark’s hand, who accepted it.  
“Do you think father would agree? Agree to what I am doing today?” Christopher asked curiously, hopefully.  
“Don’t think of the past, Christopher. Only the future.” Mark responded, releasing Christopher’s hand. The exited the dressing room and started down the stairs. Marchie was waiting with Michael who was dressed in a sharply tailored suit, similar to Christopher’s.   
“Father! We are going to be late!” Michael called, ushering his father to pick up his pace.  
“You are a good best man to have Michael. Keep us on schedule.” Mark pointed out softly, patting the young man’s shoulders. He seemed to grow an inch every time I see him, Mark thought to himself, feeling the strength and youth in his nephew’s shoulders.  
“The sun is coming out!! Ohhh, thank the Lord!” Mrs. Wannop announced in gleeful delight. “Quick! Quick we shouldn’t let the sun pass.” Mrs. Wannop urged the bridal party. She exited the room to quickly join the other wedding guests waiting outside. Christopher, Michael, Marie and the parson standing under the new Groby tree. Mrs. Wannop walked slowly to her place in the front row, smiling at Christopher, who nodded in acknowledgement. Marchie and Maddie both were also in the front row with Alexander and young Daniel. It won’t be long now, Christopher thought as he watched for the doors on the back terrace to open.  
Mark was inside the house waiting from Valentine. He watched as she slowly descended the stairs. His heart was in his throat. For just a moment he considered marrying his Marie, just to see her dressed as stunningly as Valentine, if it were possible that is.  
“Miss Wannop I do believe you will steal every male heart outside. You look lovely.” Mark stated kindly, kissing Valentine’s left hand, which still held the red garnet ring Christopher had given her not so long ago.  
“There is only one heart I wish to steal. But perhaps I could steal just one more.” Valentine stated sweetly and suggestively to gallant Mark.  
Ahh…if it had only been me you had accosted on that faraway instead of Christopher, I would dare say you may have succeeded.” Mark responded with a smirk. They both smiled and giggled together. Mark step beside her, offering his arm. He was taller than Christopher, but he was so like him in so many ways.   
“I’m glad it is you who will walk me to him. In a way, you did. All those years ago, at the war office. You knew….how much I cared for Christopher.” Valentine spoke honestly, tears filling her eyes.  
“Now don’t go crying now. You’ll have Christopher think I’ve done something dastardly.” Mark pointed out, his hand covering Valentine’s. “But I am glad you found each other.” Mark paused. “Shall we?” With a quick nod they started toward the back terrace doors.  
The ceremony was beautiful. The Book of Common Prayer spelling out the vows they made to each other, but not long ago in an almost empty flat in London, they both had given each other vows that were so much more powerful. Regardless, the ceremony under the new Groby tree was to cement their marriage, even though they had been married for days. The Anglican Church required marriages be performed in a church, so they had done so a few days prior, signed the register, Mark and Marie serving as witnesses. The sun shined brightly upon the bride and groom, who only had eyes for each other.  
“You may kiss your bride.” The parson, Effie’s husband, whispered to Christopher. Christopher stepped to Valentine, careful not to damage her dress or dislodge her veil, and pressed a sweet, longing kiss upon her rose lips. How Valentine wanted to moan out loud and pull her husband to her in greater intimacy.   
“There will be plenty of time for that, my dove.” Christopher whispered softly into Valentine’s ear as they held each other. People applauded as they walked down the aisle of chairs away from the Groby tree, Marie and Michael following behind them, Marie’s hand looped in Michael’s proffered arm. Valentine and Christopher laughed softly looking back and watching Michael act so like his father or his uncle Mark.  
The reception banquet was a boisterous affair. Games were played, drink flowed, people danced. The crowded seem to mushroom tenfold. However, Christopher had anticipated this; he knew many of the local farmers and their families would come, since he had asked them. Not everyone was thrilled with the common folk arriving though.  
“Will you look at this? It’s become a regular….hoedown.” Glorvina remarked as they watched people dance and carry on.  
“And those soldiers! Ghastly manners…talking all sorts of nonsense. It’s a wonder if they are even able to stand.” Another young woman remarked to Glorvina and Lady Claudine pointing to the group of soldiers standing on the terrace singing, Christopher drinking with them and smiling.  
“I just can’t believe he did this. Married that girl. And only a little more than a year since Sylvia passed away.” Glorvina stated. “And they have had yet another child.” All the ladies huffed in response to this additional information.  
“I believe that is a third child she has whelped for Christopher. Although I haven’t see the first around. All the other children have been scampering about…I wonder where that one is.” Lady Claudine remarked, pausing to drink her champagne. At least that was good, Lady Claudine thought. She saw her brother join the other soldiers, many snapped to attention. But her brother waved them off their formal stance and joining them for a drink. She puffed in annoyance at her brother’s allegiance to the damaged man, Christopher Tietjens. She had always thought her brother was enamored with Tietjens’ wife, but alas now the bitch was gone and he was still Tietjen’s champion at times.  
“You know,” Lady Claudine leaned in to whisper to their little gossip group, “I was there. I was there when Tietjens and the girl first became entangled, shall we say.”  
“What do you mean ‘you were there?’ Were you in the room?” Glorvina laughed incredulously.  
“Practically. I spied them returning from an apparent assignation. Looked like they had been out all night.” Lady Claudine spoke in hushed tones.  
“Was that in London?” Glorvina inquired.  
“No. No it was here. In Yorkshire, almost 10 years ago.”   
“10 years! Is that how long this tryst has gone one? I had no idea. And Sylvia allowed it to go on.” Glorvina stated absently. “Well, Sylvia was no saint. She had her schemes. And I think that she got exactly what she deserved.” Glorvina stated as she checked her appearance in a mirrored box from her handbag.  
“You can’t mean that. Sylvia was one of us.” Lady Claudine remarked in surprise at Glorvina turning so abruptly on Sylvia. “It’s not kind or right to speak ill of the dead.” Lady Claudine reprimanded.  
“Sylvia would have spoken more ill about everyone one of us if she had outlasted us.” Glorvina stated quite plainly to the ladies, rising from her chair.   
“I think I shall congratulate the bride and groom. The bride certainly deserves credit for her patience. 10 years, my lord.” Glorvina moved away from the group of gossips.  
It was several hours into the festivities, many of the guests were well into their cups with drink, but it was a lively bunch and there was no harm. Christopher had removed his suit jacket and tie, since photographs were completed now, and was playing horseshoes with several of people, including the bride. Valentine’s athletic nature was an asset for her team, which did not include Christopher. It was a jolly good time.  
They did not notice her arrival, but there was a sudden hush came over the group on the terrace. Mrs. Wannop stood up from her chair near where the games were being played in shock at who stood on the terrace. Some people did not know who the stranger was, but a majority did, and the hushed whispered spread quickly. Valentine looked at Christopher expectantly. Christopher sighed in resolution, he would go to greet her, grabbing his suit coat from the chair it was hanging on with annoyance. He cursed as he walked toward the terrace. The activity of the party slowly returned to normal, but Valentine watched as her new husband walk toward the beast that dare to impose itself on their glorious day.  
“Mrs. Satterwaite, I was not expecting you. This is surprising.” Christopher stated blandly as he walked up the terrace steps.  
“Really Christopher? You’re surprised? I was surprised too, having not received an invitation to the joyous event.” Mrs. Satterwaite, still dressed in mourning colors of black and gray, stated as she scanned the scene. Her lip curled up in distaste to the unreserved air of the celebration.  
“No quite like your last wedding, to be sure. A simple country wedding is what you said, if I remember correctly. Well, you have succeeded. Certainly has simple written upon it, judging by the attendees.” Mr. Satterwaite continued to stand like a sentinel upon the terrace, challenging Christopher, but continuing to scan the group. She seemed to find what she was looking for, and started down the terrace steps, her hand held out for Christopher to assist her, which he did as a gentleman.   
Christopher released his ex-mother-in-law’s hand immediately as she touched the grass. Mrs. Satterwaite looked down at the grass in disgust, but moved along. Christopher noticed her direction, as did Mrs. Wannop, who moved toward the obvious intended target of Mrs. Satterwaite. Valentine stood tall as she watched Mrs. Satterwaite moved toward her. Valentine and Christopher’s eyes locked for a moment, but then Valentine’s mother was there. Out of nowhere, Marie was also by Valentine, having been informed by Mark of who had just arrived.   
“Are you out of your mind, Mark? We must go to her! Protect her from that she-devil’s mother!” Marie yelled at Mark, who continued to recline in one of the lounge chairs by the Groby tree. Mark said nothing, not wanting to involve himself. Sylvia was dead, the mother had no power now. Even so, Marie scampered off toward Valentine, to help her friend.  
Christopher moved to Valentine’s side; a united front. Mrs. Wannop waited anxiously for the first volley towards her daughter. Would it be kindness or venom, she wondered.  
“What a beautiful dress. Very appropriate, not being white.” Mrs. Satterwaite stated, Valentine didn’t finch, but Christopher’s jaw flexed. “I, of course, didn’t have to worry about what color I would wear since I am still in mourning…as some others should be too.” Mrs. Satterwaite looked pointedly at Christopher.  
“Why you here? Do not attempt wipe your boots on this happy moment. I will not stand for it!” Mrs. Wannop stated angrily towards Mrs. Satterwaite, who looked a bit surprised at the force of the remark.  
“Why I just came here to see…..my grandson. And of course to wish Christopher well. How was I to now that there was a carnival occurring, oh I mean a wedding, occurring. I received no invitation.” Mrs. Satterwaite stated quietly.  
“Perhaps you received no invitation because you are not wanted here today.” Valentine spoke calmly, but her hands shook lightly in anger.  
“Well, how unlucky for you to have arrived now. Providence one might say.”   
“Well, I hope you have a place to stay. Groby is entirely filled and there are no spare rooms available.” Valentine stated politely, too politely.  
“No doubt you have been filling it quite nicely all your own, my dear.” Mrs. Satterwaite stated coldly, making a vague reference to the boys Valentine had given birth to already. Valentine wanted to scream and claw at the woman for her implication. Christopher held back, trying to remain calm. Years of dealing with Sylvia had steeled him for these types of battles, although Mrs. Satterwaite was more nuanced in her attacks.  
“But, yes I have availed myself of a place at Lady Claudine’s down the road.” Mrs. Satterwaite waved kindly to Lady Claudine across the field. “How queer, she did receive an invitation.”   
“If you came here to see Michael as you can see he is otherwise engaged. I suggest you come back in a few days to visit him.” Christopher stated meaningfully, trying to end confrontation.  
“And what, come back when you are on your honeymoon?” Mrs. Satterwaite stated, glancing to over Valentine’s shoulder seeing the young infant nearby, undoubtedly the most recent child born by the bride. “But perhaps there cannot be a honeymoon, such as Sylvia and Christopher’s grad tour after their wedding, since you have a young child to care for. I hear you are nursing him yourself.” Mrs. Satterwaite tsked at Valentine in admonishment.  
“That is enough! I will not have my daughter exposed to this…this…interrogation by someone who cares for nothing but to grind her boot heel into others to assuage her own suffering!” Mrs. Wannop shouted and pointed her finger at Mrs. Satterwaite, who stepped back in shock. “Come along, Valentine.” Mrs. Wannop gathered up her daughter, with Marie in tow, who looked at Mrs. Satterwaite with such venom as she walked away. Christopher waited a moment, cursing that their day had been interrupted. He started to move away from Mrs. Satterwaite, basically dismissing her.  
“I meant what I said.” Mrs. Satterwaite softly spoke. Christopher paused. “I hope you never have to endure what I am enduring now. I hope you never have to watch a child of your own grow and then be taken from this world.” Mrs. Satterwaite turned and looked directly into Christopher’s eyes. Somehow it was not a wish for him to be truly spared the heartache of losing a child, but her repeated words felt as if she was placing a terrible curse upon him. He walked away, not looking back.  
The party continued into the evening, paper lanterns lighting up the back terrace, but the crowd had lightened considerably. Only a few dozen people remained, mostly those who were staying a Groby. And the soldiers of course. The children had been put to bed. Valentine had changed from her wedding dress to a simple party dress she had purchased a while back. It was easier to move about in, and she had to nurse Daniel twice before he went to bed for the evening.  
Soon it was time for the bride and groom to retire for the evening. Valentine quietly left the party, but thanks almost everyone personally before she left. Christopher knew it was almost time that they spend their first night together as husband and wife. It excited him to realize that his dreams had finally come true.  
Mark walked up to his half-brother, Marie nearby on the stairs, waiting anxiously for her lover. Christopher smiled at Marie, who blew a kiss in his direction.   
“Now don’t be going begetting another baby on the girl tonight, ol’ chap. The poor girl got to be exhausted at this point giving you 2 sons in 2 years.” Mark stated quietly to Christopher who laughed at Mark’s comment.  
“I’m afraid you’ll have better luck speaking with the ‘poor girl’ about such matters. She can be very demanding.” Christopher spoke with more honest than usual since he was a bit drunk.  
“Well, you do know how to do it without….finishing your conversation.” Mark asked in a hushed tone. Christopher laughed loudly at Mark’s veiled reference.  
“Oh, I assure you, we have been practicing such….” Christopher grinned again. Mark bowed slightly in salute, looping his arm around Marie who giggled in delight to something he whispered into Marie’s ear. Christopher decided it was time to greet his bride, his wife. What he found in their martial bed was a sound asleep bride, who was indeed exhausted. And he, Christopher Tietjens, was most assuredly drunk, so there was no point. He brought her hand to rest on his chest, holding it there like he always did, and he always would, he silently vowed. And with that vow, Christopher passed out half dressed in the bed next to his new wife, Valentine.


	16. 5 years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 1921 - August 1926

Five years….. had it really been that long since he had made Valentine his wife, Christopher mused as he sat at this desk in his study. Had the time really rushed by so quickly. Was he really a man in his forties now? And Valentine…..could it be that she would be thirty-five soon? He glanced at the photograph of Valentine on his desk, it was a few years old but she looked as young and as beautiful as he remembered her on the night they rode through the midst. How things had changed. How the world had changed. Instead of telegrams, there was the telephone, which there was one currently sitting on Christopher’s desk. He still utilized the telegram occasionally, but he now he could ring up the telegraph operator in Leicester verse having a runner take it the short distance into the town. It was more efficient, Christopher conceded, but he pined for the days people would actually write one another. This mode of correspondence seem to be fading fast. Christopher leaned back in his high-backed leather chair, closing his eyes as he pondered the last five years.  
Their first Christmas together at Groby as a true family, was a wondrous affair. Partly because Valentine was able to creatively decorate the entire house with beautiful handmade decorations made by the children, the staff, and even Christopher joined it. There were wonderful boughs of evergreen branches she had collected around Groby, and she and the children wove them together to make long strands of evergreen garland. Valentine and the staff carefully draped the evergreen garland down the stair rail and along the wooden paneling in the front hall and gallery. The children made paper chain garland and strung colorful beads in a vast array of colors, although Valentine had tried desperately to keep them in the traditional colors of Christmas. In the end, she gave up and let the children have a wonderful time creating things. The back parlor and living room, which were adjoined by a grand archway, had become the area of the house where the family could enjoy the days and evenings at Groby when guests were not about. The front parlor and drawing room were reserved for guests and such, and Michael and Alexander were strictly forbidden to those rooms. Yet they always seemed to find a reason to go in there.  
The paper chain garland was stung on every available shelf, ledge, mantle, any flat surface with a straight edge throughout the family area. The children had even placed a bit of paper chain garland around Christopher’s desk in his study without his knowledge. Of course, when it was discovered he was escorting a rather upset neighbor, who was complaining about one of this tenant farmers, into his study. The decorations were a bit of shock, but Christopher only smiled and ushered the man as if nothing was amiss.  
“I see your little ones are a wily as mine.” The neighbor remarked, smiling as he gazed at the childish paper chain garland. It was what seemed to be needed to make the conversation more amiable, and for that Christopher was glad, so he left the paper garland up.  
The family area was always in some sort of disarray, as much as the staff tried to keep it tidy. But with three young boys, it was almost impossible. Daniel was still young to make too much of a mess, but what he lacked, Michael and Alexander made up for.  
“You may as well be Sisyphus trying to keep this place organized.” Valentine told the staff, referencing the Greek myth about the man doomed for eternity to push an immense boulder up a steep hill only to watch it roll down when he reached the top. A losing battle, but Valentine told them to do their best, but it was nothing to be overly concerned about. She rather liked the disorganization, gave this part of the house a feeling of a simpler home where people lived, rather than a grand hall and estate. She always thought that the front parlor and drawing room they used for guests and parties was a bit cold. This area, at the back of house, with its large French doors that opened to the back terrace, was warm, friendly place. Even so, the children’s decorations seem to permeate everywhere. Even the kitchen and staff rooms were not spared the festooning of childish creations. It would be the same at other holidays as well forever more at Groby. Throughout the year there would always be something the children created hanging around Groby. Once the holiday was over, at least one of the more study items would be placed on the Groby tree in the back. And at this rate the tree would be full before Daniel was old enough to join in. Valentine often fretted that the tree would topple over before it could grow more with all the baubles and trinkets the children wanted to place on the tree. It had become quite a game to them.  
At that first Christmas, Christopher had gifted the family with a grand surprise. A radio was installed in the family area so everyone could enjoy the newly established British Broadcasting Company programs. At first it was only a few hours every other day during the week, but soon programs expanded and the device became something of a novelty and all enjoyed it. Christopher was so impressed with some of the programs regarding current events, he purchased another radio receiver for his study so we could keep up on what was happening in the world. Christopher marveled at the speed of information being disseminated from all around the world. The newspaper was still a great place for editorials and such, but the radio was soon becoming a place where people were not just entertained but informed. However, at least a few nights a month, the radio was left off and Christopher would read stories to the children. This was especially enjoyable for the Michael during the fall when Chistopher would read scary stories, completed with monster noises.  
“Christopher! I don’t want you reading Poe to them. Especially The Tell-Tale Heart. It’s too frightening for Alexander, and Michael will just use it to torture poor Alexander at night again. Like he did the last time when you read The Masque of the Red Death.” Valentine advised her husband as he glanced through the book of Edgar Allen Poe’s works, chuckling at her description of the joke Michael had played on Alexander after the last time he read a scary story to them.  
Christopher and Valentine had just gotten into bed for the night, when a bloodcurdling scream pierced the darkness, giving them both, and many of the staff, quite a fright. Before they could even get up to investigate, the sound of small running footsteps and sobbing came rushing toward their bedchamber door.  
“Muummmy! Dadddy!” Alexander cried outside his parent’s door. Valentine was at the door before Christopher, throwing open the doors urgently. Alexander launched himself into her arms as she knelt down to scoop him up. He had tears running down his cheeks and sobbed softly. Valentine stroked his head reassuringly, kissing him softly to calm him. Valentine met Christopher’s eyes in concern, who was moving toward them.  
“What’s the matter, ol’ chap?” Christopher asked lightly, stroking his young son’s trembling back.  
“I saw him. He was in my room.” Alexander sobbed into Valentine’s shoulder.  
“Who did you see?” Valentine whispered cautiously.  
“Him! The Red Death. The demon who came for the Prince.” Alexander stated, sitting up in his mother’s arms, his wide-eyed tear-stained face trembling with fear. Valentine stroked her son’s face, wiping the tears from his cheek. Christopher gently took Alexander from Valentine, holding him to look at him directly.  
“Come on, ol’ chap, come with me. Let’s go see.” Christopher stated encouragingly. But Alexander had other ideas.  
“No! NO! He’s in there. He will get us! He will! Just like the prince!” Alexander stated nervously, terrified.  
“Oh, come now. I fought the Keiser in the Great War. I bet you I can handle Mr. Death.” Christopher reassured his son, who looked at him surprisingly. They had never spoken about the war in front of the children, although Michael was old enough to know. It just wasn’t something they discussed.  
“Really? You were a soldier, Daddy?” Alexander asked expectantly.  
“Yes. And a very brave one too.” Valentine stated before Christopher could reply, stroking her son’s more relaxed shoulder.  
“Shall we?” asked Alexander, who nodded with a bit of apprehension. Valentine kissed Alexander’s cheek as Christopher carried him back to the room the boy’s shared. Valentine watched as Christopher carried Alexander down the hall, giving Alexander’s back a light rub to keep him calm. Alexander looked back to his mother, and gave an unsure wave to her as they walked farther away.  
“Do you think he got Michael?” Valentine heard Alexander ask Christopher, a tremble in his voice. Valentine did not hear Christopher’s response as he turned the corner. And as it turned out, Michael had played a nasty trick on Alexander, which as soon as they turned the corner, Marchie was standing there with a clearly admonished Michael standing nearby. Marchie explained what she found, a red mask Michael had been wearing when she rushed into the room after Alexander had screamed. Christopher was not amused, but also realized that this was the way with brothers. Christopher tucked Alexander into bed, then sat down to admonish Michael for his unfair behavior. Christopher advised Michael that he was much other than Alexander, and he should not be playing such tricks on one so young. He also reminded Michael of the times he would have nightmares when was young, and to remember how scared he was. Thoroughly admonished, Christopher put Michael to bed and advised that in the morning he would have extra chores to do as punishment, which elicited a sigh and huff of silent aggravation from Michael. Marchie stood outside the room, happy to see things to rights, but as Christopher closed the bedroom door, he heard the telltale sounds of a brotherly argument about the incident, with Alexander assuring Michael that he would have retribution. Christopher almost opened the door to scold them both, but decided to let them deal with each other in their own way. Christopher chuckled as he made his way back to bed. Ahhhh, brotherly love, he thought.  
Valentine settled in as the lady of Groby. She held many events at Groby for her causes and to ensure the local gentry were acknowledged on a regular basis. A tradition at Groby was a May Day fair, although over the years it had been less and less of an event. Mostly likely because of lack of children at Groby for so long and Christopher’s parent’s advanced ages. So with a renewed spirit the Groby May Day fair returned to its former greatness. It was with a great sense of pride that they were able to give such an event back to the local people. Christopher’s toryism longing to honor the past.  
While their lovemaking had not lessened, Christopher and Valentine both acknowledged that Valentine needed a respite from pregnancy. At least long enough to wean Daniel. Christopher did not want Valentine to go through the same feeling of abandonment as she went through with Alexander. Although, as a precaution they did alternate between a bottle and breast to ensure a smooth transition if there was any issues. However, practicing their new ways of making love, much of the risk of becoming pregnant was limited, although there were moments when things weren’t enough to satisfy each other’s needs. When that was the case, through her friends Valentine learned about the rhythm method to prevent pregnancy. She explained to Christopher how it worked, who seemed intrigued.  
“However, it’s not foolproof, since a woman’s body is not like a Swiss watch. It can have oddities to its cycles.” Valentine stated as she cuddled with Christopher before the fire late one evening in the family area downstairs. All the staff were abed, so they took advantage of the quiet in the house to just be together. It would not be long before they would test this new method.  
In April 1923, Valentine discovered she was pregnant again. Daniel was almost two years old, so it seemed a very opportune time. While the back-to-back nature of her first two children had been exhausting, she had started to think about the possibility of another child recently. It seemed that the Lord had heard her silent longing and decided to provide her with a gift.  
Valentine walked into the gallery, Christopher and Grayson escorting a few gentleman out the front door. She hadn’t been aware of anyone visiting, but Christopher always seemed to have people coming to him about everything regarding the estate. She sometime wondered what they did without him prior to this. She hastened her steps to Christopher.  
“Christopher, do you a few minutes?” Valentine asked, as her skirt swished around her calves. The hemlines of women’s skirts had gotten shorter, but Valentine always opted for modesty, going for the longest length possible. Christopher rather like the fact she was showing a bit of ankle, as scandalous as that would have been five years ago.  
“Of course, my dove.” Christopher stated sweetly, as Grayson noted and walked away smiling. Christopher escorted her into his study, since he had been working there earlier. “What a charming outfit you have on today. A new skirt?” Christopher asked charmingly, showing her to a seat on the other side of the desk. Valentine didn’t take it, but instead launched herself into Christopher’s arms, kissing him passionately. It so surprise him, he fell against the edge of the desk, leaning awkwardly to keep them from falling over. Once he had stabilized them both, he returned her kiss. A few moments later, Valentine pulled away breathlessly and wide grin on her face.  
“I’m pregnant again Christopher.” She stated meaningfully, looking deep into his eyes. Christopher pulled her against him and held her to him. “I will deliver most likely around Christmas.” Valentine whispered. Christopher pulled back looking at his wife. Our first child as husband and wife, Christopher thought.  
“I was just thinking about what I might get for you Christmas.” Christopher stated lightheartedly. Valentine smiled at her husband, lover, and her best friend.  
“A little girl sounds just about perfect.” Valentine stated a she adjusted his tie a bit and then smoothed out his suit jacket. The both laughed, both acknowledging that they hoped the baby was a daughter this time.  
However, perfection was far from the reality of Valentine’s pregnancy. She suffered from awful morning sickness which caused her to lose weight and not gain much in the first six months. She was pale and gaunt, and her condition greatly concerned Christopher. Her boundless energy seem to be absent. The shire doctor, Dr. Grant, who delivered Daniel, did not seem overly concerned. But Valentine’s mother decided to contact Dr. Foster in London and advise him of Valentine’s continued condition. Dr. Foster came to Groby, much to Valentine and Christopher’s surprise. He examined Valentine and did assessment on the baby, telling them that there were no outward signs of an issue. The child’s heart rate was strong, but Valentine would need absolute rest. Dr. Grant had advised the same, but Dr. Foster gave one more recommendation.  
“Valentine, if you can regain some of your strength over the next few weeks, then I think everything will be fine. However, if you don’t, I would recommend you come to hospital in London to have the baby born there.” Dr. Foster advised, looking at Christopher as well. Just by their body language, Dr. Foster knew that they were not in agreement with his recommendation. “I know you want your children to be born here at Groby. But given your condition, and if you can’t regain your strength, if there are complications, you could lose the baby and your life, my dear.” Dr. Foster witnessed the noticeable change in Christopher’s stance at the doctor’s last statement. “In London, we have the latest equipment and techniques to assist in difficult or complicated delivers, that’s all. Just think about it.” Dr. Foster packed up his things and Christopher escorted him to the front door.  
“Is there really a danger, Dr. Foster?” Christopher asked seriously as they stood at the front door, the doctor toying with his hat.  
“There is no way to really know. But she does not look strong enough to weather a long or complicated delivery here at Groby. But, that is today. With some rest, maybe she will be okay.” Dr. Foster put the hat on his head, patting Christopher’s shoulder in support. “I will confer with Dr. Grant and make it known my recommendations. He seems a competent fellow, so I think you are in good hands. But do ring me if you have any concerns.”  
“Thank you for coming Dr. Foster.” Christopher stated gravely. 1923 was turning out to be very unpleasant year for the Tietjens family.  
Less than 10 weeks later Valentine went into labor. After resting almost continuously for six weeks, Valentine’s morning sickness subsided, her appetite and most of energy came back. She gained almost 6 kilos a week the last 8 weeks of her pregnancy. Dr. Grant was pleased, as was Christopher and the rest of the family, staff included, that Valentine was coming back to life. However, at eight and half months, it seemed the child was coming a bit sooner than normal, which concerned Dr. Grant given the issues during the pregnancy. He expressed these concerns with Dr. Foster, who stated that moving Valentine to London was impossible since her labor had already started. They could go to the local hospital, but Dr. Grant was not in favor of that since its facilitates were not up to standards since before the Great War. So all they could do is hope and pray everything would be okay, for mother and baby.  
Valentine’s labor lasted longer than Alexander’s and Daniel’s deliveries combined. The baby seemed to be caught inside of Valentine and could not get beyond a certain point in the birth canal. Dr. Grant did not want to alarm anyone, least of all Christopher, but he had to be honest with them at one point.  
“Why is it taking so bloody long?” Christopher asked in frustration, dressed only in his shirtsleeves, which were rolled up and had light swears of blood here and there. Mrs. Wannop exited the bed chamber were Valentine was attempting to deliver. A soft cry and moan coming from the room made Christopher’s body flinch. Mrs. Wannop was wringing and wiping her hands at the same time.  
“I have a suspicion about what might be happening, but…” Dr. Grant advised trying to keep is tone even.  
“Oh, doctor, this is taking far too long. Valentine is almost incoherent with exhaustion.” Mrs. Wannop urged with frantic concern in her eyes. Christopher her frantic state, wrapped his arm around her back in comfort.  
“You said you had a suspicion. Is there any way to confirm if your suspicion is true?” Christopher asked anxiously.  
“Yes. But it can be very painful, and I cannot give Valentine anything for the pain, because I may need her to push immediately after I am done.” Dr. Grant explained gravely.  
Dr. Grant explained his suspicion that the umbilical cord may be wrapped around something, even the baby’s throat, making it impossible to deliver without hurting both the mother and the baby. He would have to try to determine this was true, which means he would have to reach inside of Valentine. The very thought of the procedure scared Christopher to death.  
“And if the umbilical cord is wrapped awkwardly. What then?” Christopher asked expectantly.  
“I will attempt to unwrap it, then Valentine will need to push very quickly.” Dr. Grant stated.  
“And if you can’t?” Christopher asked, his hands starting to shake.  
“Then a decision will need to be made. The baby will likely not survive under the prolonged stress of the delivery, and Valentine could be killed if we deliver do not deliver the child.” Dr. Foster explained, watching Christopher and Mrs. Wannop struggle with this information. “But if a decision needs to be made, I can use ether to put her to sleep during….” Christopher walked away not wanting to hear anymore. It was beyond him, He could lose Valentine or the baby. Their baby. What would Valentine think when she awoke if a decision needed to be made? Should he ask her beforehand? Would she even comprehend in her incoherent state?  
“See what you can do first, Dr. Grant.” Christopher responded hopefully. Mrs. Wannop gripped Christopher’s arm in silent concern.  
They entered the bed chamber. Bloody towels were piled to one side of the bed. Valentine looked pale, lifeless, her lips almost white, except where she had bitten them so hard in pain she had drew blood. She would moan and her face would contort in such a pained expression. The sight sickened Christopher. This was supposed to be a happy time, but he was walking in as if he were waiting for the next barrage from the Germans.  
Christopher walked to Valentine, who looked at him absently.  
“Christopher? You’re here. I thought…..I thought….you had gone away….to the war.” Valentine spoke in pained, listless drawl. Christopher clasped her hand to his chest after kissing it, then stroked her face gentle.  
“No, my dove. I am here.” Christopher glanced to end of the bed, the doctor preparing himself to examine Valentine. Christopher squeezed his eyes shut in silent prayer. Oh Lord, please. Please let this work, and quickly. Christopher thought to himself. Mrs. Wannop positioned herself on the other side of the bed, to help to hold Valentine if she lurched, which Dr. Grant said she might. How he wished he had taken her to London. Mark had agreed with Dr. Foster, regardless of any improvement in Valentine’s energy levels. Mark even offered to let him stay with them while Valentine was in hospital. How he cursed is damnable pride to have his children born at Groby.  
“Valentine? Valentine, look at me.” Christopher commanded softly. “The doctor is going to try and help you….and the baby…” Christopher stated directly trying to gauge Valentine’s level of comprehension.  
“…the baby…” Valentine whispered softly with a kind of sing-song tone.  
“Yes, the baby. I need you to be strong.” Christopher nodded to Dr. Grant to begin.  
Within moments, Valentine was clutching and grasping onto Christopher’s arms and chest in pain. He tried to sooth her, but she moan and cried.  
“Don’t…don’t….don’t let them...” She begged Christopher. Christopher was shaking at the pleading in her hysterical visage. “Don’t let them take our baby! Christopher!! Oh god!” It seemed the pain increased tenfold and Valentine screamed louder than he had ever heard. She sounded like a wounded animal being killed slowly. All he could do was silently pray it would be over soon.  
“It’s done! Valentine I need you to push, now!” Dr. Grant urged. Christopher positioned Valentine to try and push their child into the world. Alas, Valentine was so weak she could barely sit up.  
“Valentine. Valentine its time. Time to bring our daughter in the world.” Christopher whispered into Valentine’s ear in encouragement, his eyes burning with tears.  
“Our daughter….” Valentine faintly whispered. But with renewed strength, Valentine pushed the child into the world. It was only moments and a soft, weak cry came from the end of the bed. The babe was small, but was breathing well. Valentine collapsed unconscious into Christopher’s arms. Dr. Grant and the midwife completed the birth while Mrs. Wannop again held the baby. Mrs. Wannop walked to her daughter where Christopher sat on the bed, still holding her. Seeing that her daughter was not awake, she looked to her son-in-law and nodded knowingly.  
“It’s a girl.” Mrs. Wannop stated happily, leaning over to place the baby in Christopher’s arms. It did not seem right that he was the first one to hold his child, his daughter. Valentine should be. However, he silently thanked God for the blessing of this event. Christopher leaned down and whispered to Valentine.  
“It’s a girl, my dove. Isabel, our lovely Isabel.” Christopher noted as he watched the baby’s eyes close in exhaustion.  
Everyone was exhausted. Valentine did not awaken until two days after the birth. Dr. Grant examined her and advised both her and Christopher that Valentine had suffered some internal injuries and that more children may not be possible in the future. It was crushing blow to them both. They were both still fairly young and thought they would have a few more years to have children.  
“It’s alright, Christopher. We have four beautiful children. We can just shower and spoil them all the more.” Valentine had reassured Christopher, who felt terrible about the entire situation, like it was his fault.  
Ten days after Isabel’s birth, Valentine was feeling well enough to get out of bed and nurse Isabel fully. She had nursed Isabel a few time to ensure her milk would continue, but neither she nor Isabel could last more than a few minutes before exhaustion settled in.  
On this morning, Valentine sat nursing her new daughter, who only weight 2.5 kilos, but was gaining weight and strength every day. Christopher walked in to check on Valentine and was surprised to see her in her overstuffed chair by the fire, nursing a very hungry baby, judging by the suckling noises. It made Christopher smile but also sad.  
“Good Morning. Out for a stroll?” Valentine commented brightly noting his outfit.  
“I took the boys out, having returned finally from their Aunt Effie’s. They are anxious to see you, both you.” He walked to Valentine, bending to kiss her lips and stroking his daughter’s downy head.  
“Although I am sure they are lamenting the fact that it is not another boy we are adding to their little tribe.” Valentine stated jokingly. Christopher chuckled as well.  
“No, actually they are quite excited to see what a sister is all about.” Christopher stated softly, kissing the baby’s head that continue to suckle at Valentine’s breast. Christopher gazed up at his wife’s pale face, a slight flush of health returning slowing to her cheeks each day. He brushed his fingertips along the lines of her face in reverence.  
“I almost lost you. Both of you.” Christopher stated in a somber voice as his eyes filled with tears. There were no words to describe what passed through them in that moment. Christopher hoped he would never have to go through that again. And based on Dr. Grant’s assessment it appears that may be the case. It made him sad that this would be the last child they would have.  
That is until Hannah Rebecca Tietjens was born two years later in an almost flawless delivery, in December 1925.  
Yes, five years is a long time, but it seemed to pass by in such a flash, Christopher thought as he opened his eyes from his musings, turning to the desk once again to complete the tasks before him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a very recent photo of the children.  
Michael was 15 and almost as tall as Christopher. Alexander was six, Daniel, five, Isabel, three. He would have to get another photo taken to include six-month old Hannah, the miracle child.  
Christopher had never believed in miracles before, but now he believe all things were possible. All you have to do is do good work.


	17. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1926 - 1933

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer than normal time to post this next chapter. I hope you like it. I promise there will more drama in the next 2 or 3 chapters. And will be revisiting with our narrator, Ana, very soon as well. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. For those you haven't I am going to assume you are enjoying the story and it is been perfect thus far. :) If you have suggestions or ideas you would like to share, please PM me and I will be happy to discuss. Gratitude!

The decade that was the 1920s was filled with change, conflict, and hope for the future. While wrestling with the realities that came with the First World War, both economic and social, was just the first of many issues that plagued the United Kingdom. At first, there was a great post war economic boom, but soon, due to industrial advances, many traditional industries started to cut back on human labor. A lack of pre-war technological developments and post war competition damaged the economy and the new industries which emerged employed fewer people. In addition to England’s post war issues, Ireland was engaged in a fierce political battle with its sovereign country, England, to secede as its own free state. Only in 1922 was most of Ireland declared a free state, with Northern Ireland remaining under rule of England. The strife caused by the Irish insurrection caused many in England to be doubtful England would ever regain its former glory.   
Groby’s coal deposits had long been a consistent source of income for the estate and the community, by providing jobs and stability. However, in 1926 there was a general strike by the coal workers. The General Strike of 1926 was the largest industrial dispute in England’s history. The Trades Union Congress called the strike to prevent wage reduction and worsening conditions for coal miners. As a result, the profits from the coal deposits were reduced significantly, however, Christopher had not placed as much use of funds beyond using the funds to invest in different markets and other industry. Christopher had always agreed that diversification of the investing would shield any dramatic or unforeseen reactions in the market. The coal funds also help with a stipend for Mark to finance is London lifestyle. With the decrease in profits, Mark was forced to curtail some of his extravagances. For the most part 1920s were good time for the Tietjens family.   
Christopher and Valentine Teitjens’ family continued to expand, much to their delight and surprise on occasion. After Hannah’s miracle birth, they had just counted their blessings that Valentine was able to have another child. It was early in 1927 when Valentine once again became aware that she may have be with child again. Her pregnancy was normal, however her weight gain and girth seem exponentially greater than any of the others. Fearing another incident like with Isabel’s birth years earlier, Christopher insisted they move temporarily back to London to accommodate Valentine’s condition. Valentine, however, also insisted the entire family be moved as well, not wanting to be separated from her children for too long.  
Michael was almost 17 and had been sent to Harrow’s school for his primary education. He was an exceptional student, particularity in mathematics. Christopher and Valentine made regular inquiries into his progress and were always pleased with his academics. However, right before the move to London, Christopher received a phone call from the head master at Harrows.  
“Mr. Tietjens, I am sorry to be calling you, but I fear we have a situation involving your son here at the school.” Mr. Bennett, the head master, explained gravely.  
“What’s happened? Is Michael injured?” Christopher asked with concern as he sat at this desk in the study.  
“Well, not seriously. He and another student came to blows over some brash comments made. You know how young men can be.” Mr. Bennett stated trying to assuage any major concerns.  
“I see. Do you know what was said to enflame this confrontation?” Christopher asked curiously, however he could well imagine some things that could be said. He cringed as he waited for the head master to respond.  
“Well, it’s not really important at this point. The issue is the fight that commenced, which is of course against the school code of conduct.” Mr. Bennett paused for emphasis. Christopher already knew what the punishment would be, since he had also attended Harrow’s for this primary education.  
“Michael and the other young man will be suspended from attending classes for the remainder of the semester. And they will both have to return home for that time.”  
“I understand. My family and I will be moving temporarily to London in the next few days. I will gather my son after I arrive in London.” Christopher explained, a bit exasperated at the situation. The head master was not very forthcoming about the details of the argument, so he was cautiously optimistic that Michael had not instigated the situation. Michael had always been a very well behaved boy. Oh well, as boys turn to young men tussles are bound to happen, Christopher mused as he listened to the head master.  
“Oh, you’re coming to London? I was not aware that you had a house here? Why are you coming to London outside of the season?” the head master commented impertinently. His comment annoyed Christopher, because it was obvious the head master was aware of the lingering gossips that continued to whisper about the “downfall” of the Tietjens’ family.  
“No, we do not have a house in London. The reason my family are coming is no concern of yours, however it seems fortuitous that we are coming since my son has been implicated in a situation you have given me very little detail about.” Christopher stated with a bit of annoyance and anger.  
“I…I’m ssoo ssoorry…” The head master stammered, hearing the anger in Christopher’s voice.   
“It’s of no matter. I expect Michael will be able to return after the end of the current semester session?” Christopher asked with more calmly. The head master confirmed he was correct and Christopher thanked him for contacting him. The situation was concerning to Christopher, but it would only be a few days before he could speak to Michael directly to discover the source of the argument.  
The family, Valentine, Christopher, 7-year old Alexander, 6-year-old Daniel, 3-year old Isabel, and 1 ½ -year-old Hannah, Marchie, and now Maddie, alighted from the train as they arrived to London. There were a lot more automobiles on the road and it seemed a lot more people. Mark and Marie met them at the train station to see them to house that Mark had found for them.   
“It’s a townhouse owned by Lord Thompson, who is on a grand tour of India, and won’t be back for a few months. He owns me a bit of money from a card game he lost fabulously right before he left. So I asked him if you could use his empty house in lieu of payment of his gambling debt to me. He graciously agreed.” Mark stated with a twinkle in his eyes. Christopher chuckled in response.  
“I never thought I would say that your gambling compulsion would be to my benefit. But, thank you.” Christopher stated lightly.  
“Well, I for one, like your compulsion. You teaching me your tricks has helped me beat, Mr. Strategy here in several card games.” Valentine stated, leaning against Christopher as she spoke with Mark.  
“Ohhhh, is THAT where those tricks came from?” Christopher asked jokingly. Valentine laughed heartedly at his mock surprise.  
“She was a very apt pupil.” Mark commented. They continued down the train platform, the boys, Alexander and Daniel, scampering about. They had never been to London before, so it was a grand adventure to see all the tall buildings and grand structures.  
“Can we go to the British Museum? I heard on the radio that they have real mummies there?” Alexander asked to his father and uncle as they walked. Alexander was a bundle of energy, and Christopher mused to himself that they would have to find an outlet for that energy while they were in London. Daniel, for the most part, just followed Alexander’s lead.  
“Yes, can we? Please father??” Daniel asked expectantly. “And we can ride on the underground tube too!” Daniel reminded his brother who nodded in excitement. Soon, the question was forgotten as they emerged from Paddington Station to the streets of London. The boys stood in awe of all they saw. Valentine was trudging her way behind the men, speaking quietly to Marie. Isabel and Hannah, now 3 and 1 ½ years old, respectively, were together in a baby carriage pushed by Marchie. Marchie was getting on in age, but she still worked as hard as ever to be of service to Christopher and Valentine. There was no way she was going to let Ms. Valentine push the carriage, even though Valentine loved to do so. Hannah was asleep and Isabel was sitting up and peering out from the carriage canopy. It was quite a brood they had at this point, Valentine mused as they began loading the children into the waiting car. Due to their number, Marchie would ride with Mark and Marie in the next car, however, the boys were desperate to engage their cosmopolitan uncle, so Christopher relented to allow the boys to ride in the other car.  
“Marchie will be able to handle them.” Christopher advised when he saw Valentine’s wide eyes.   
“You would sic those boys onto your brother, this early in the game, my dear” Valentine stated as she adjusted a sleeping Hannah in her arms. Isabel had climbed into Christopher’s lap and was being cuddled sweetly by her father as the car rolled through the streets of London. Christopher only chuckled at his wife.  
As the rode through the streets, Valentine watched. The city had changed. The people had changed. There seemed to be more people in London that they both remembered. Christopher had come to London a few time since moving back to Groby, but he never paid much mind to what was going on in London. He was so focused to do his business and get home. However, now that he watched through the glass windows, he noticed. The city seemed dirtier…he saw more vagrants on the streets. Christopher was aware of the high unemployment that had gripped most of the country, but up at Groby, people took care of each other. People had work to do. It was a bit unnerving.  
The family was settled in at the Thompson townhouse. The staff there were surprised by all the children, but happy since one of the maids confided to Valentine there had not been any children in the house for many, many years. Valentine called Dr. Foster to tell him she had arrived in London, he advised he would like to see her in the morning.   
Christopher entered the large bedroom they would share while in London, watching as a very-pregnant Valentine replace the phone receiver to its cradle. She slowly lowered herself to the chair next to the table where the telephone sat.  
“It still amazes me that you can be that graceful, when carrying such a burden.” Christopher announced as he brushed a kiss to Valentine’s temple.  
“It amazes me as well, all this girth that surrounds me. I feel like big, fat beached whale.” Valentine stated lightly, laughing and stroking her over-extended tummy over the light cotton fabric. Christopher said nothing, Valentine’s larger than normal size was the reason they were there in London. He hoped there was nothing to be concerned with, but given his experience a few years ago with Isabel, he silently feared the worse might happen again. And this time there would be choices that would have to be made.  
“I am going to go and see Michael at Harrows” Christopher stated softly, absently.  
“Ohhh that would be lovely. The boys so miss him. But I thought visitors were not allowed during the semester sessions?” Valentine noted.  
“Yes, well…I received a call from the head master the day before we left. Seems there has been an incident..”  
“An incident??” Valentine exclaimed, interrupting Christopher.  
“…the head master informs me it’s nothing serious, but Michael has been suspended for the remainder of the semester.”  
“Suspended?! What happened? If it’s serious…how could…” Valentine started to ask in rapid succession.   
“There seems to have been an altercation with another student. I am not sure what about. But there was a fight, and both of them were suspended. They will have to complete their studies at home or repeat that semester.” Christopher toyed with his hat as he spoke.  
“A fight you say? Well, you know that Michael didn’t start that. Michael has never engaged in any such behavior before. It must have been something truly deserving of his anger for him to assault someone.” Valentine as she pulled out a pen and paper, starting to write a few things she needed to do while they were there. She trusted Christopher to handle Michael.   
“Well, I am off. I will bring Michael back with me this evening.” Christopher bent and gave Valentine a lingering kiss on her soft lips.  
“It will be nice, none the less, to have everyone together.” Valentine whispered to her husband.  
“Always seeing the bright side of things…” Christopher stated reminding him of how Valentine would always ensure he did not lose sight of what was really important.  
As Christopher travelled to Harrows to collect Michael, he considered what might have had happened. It did not take a genius to know some of what was probably said, given Christopher’s relationship with this mother and Valentine. Frankly he had been surprised it had taken this long. Many, if not most, of the young men at Harrows were from parents undoubtedly aware of the entire situation. And those stories were obviously colored by the filter of the posh ton’s laughable sensibilities about what was expectable and what was not. Still, it was concerning to Christopher. Perhaps it was best that Michael come home and they could engage a tutor. He wanted Michael to have the best chance of getting into university, especially Michael’s penchant for numbers and formulas. He could see patterns others could not. Plus, he needed to gain experience with running Groby. It had to be worked out now to be sure all was in place for Michael’s future.  
Christopher entered Harrows and was greeted solemnly by the head master. There was a quick conversation regarding when Michael could return before Michael entered the head master’s office. Upon seeing his father sitting there, Michael became very concerned, and it showed in his body language. He knew they would suspend him, he knew they would make him leave, but he had forgotten he would have to face his father. Somehow, Michael’s brain had blocked that part out.  
Michael’s things were loaded onto the car waiting out front Harrows. They didn’t speak as they walked down the long storied hallways of Harrows. As they did, another young man and obviously his father walked in past them. Christopher noticed the glances passing between them, and knew this was the other party in the altercation. Christopher glanced to the other man, who did not acknowledge Christopher, which irritated Christopher immensely. They climbed into the car, still not saying anything to each other. Christopher instructed the driver to leave.  
“Good riddance.” Christopher mumbled under his breath, adjusting his coat a bit. Michael, looking sincerely dejected, was surprised by his father’s comment, but said nothing. They rode in silence for a minute or two, finally Christopher let out a long breath.  
“We can’t ride in silence forever.” Christopher announced, looking directly at this firstborn’s nervous stance.  
“I’m sorry, father.” Michael stated sincerely. Christopher held up his hand to silence him.  
“Why don’t you tell me what happened. The head master was dreadfully lax on the details of your altercation.”  
Michael swallowed and cleared his throat a bit. He was nervous. Christopher patted his son’s knee in reassurance.   
“Come on, ol’ fellow. It’s just us chaps.” Christopher asked encouragingly. Michael still hesitated.  
“You can’t tell mum. Promise?” Michael asked seriously, waiting for his agreement to the promise. Michael knew his parents shared everything with each other, so it was a serious promise he was extracting from his father.  
“I don’t know if I can promise that, Michael. Your mother cares about you. Nothing you could do could upset her that much to have to request such a promise.” Christopher advised his son, who seemed to understand but was still anxious.  
“I know. But…I punched that boy for what he said…about mum. And I don’t want her to know what he said.” Michael stated pointedly. Christopher was not surprised by what Michael had just told him.  
“It’s alright, son. If you don’t want to tell me.”   
“Oh, father. It was awful. Rupert was telling he heard that I was born on the wrong side of sheets. That, I wasn’t your son.” Michael took in a deep breath and continued. “At first I didn’t care. But then he started talking about mum. That she was….that…” Michael struggled to describe what had been said about Valentine. “They called a whore. That she had seduced you before the war, and had a baby. I tried to tell them that it wasn’t true. I mean, you’re married now. But they just kept on….and Rupert was the instigator.” Michael clinched his fists in anger. “He told me that his father had ‘had a go’ with mum, and that Uncle Mark was one of mum’s lovers while you were away at war. And that ‘who knew who the father of all my siblings’ was. I couldn’t take it anymore. So I attacked him.”  
Christopher tried to remain calm. He had no idea that this was considered ‘nothing’ at Harrows. He thought back as they passed the father and son leaving Harrows. His memory came back to him. The man’s name was Graves. How appropriate, Christopher thought his anger growing, he would like to put him in a grave. Christopher had a right thought to take issue regarding the situation with the young man’s father. Obviously, the boy heard these terrible stories somewhere, mostly likely at the feet of his sycophant parents. No, Christopher silently considered, his rational thought coming back to him. It doesn’t matter, only good work does.  
“It’s alright, Michael. You are more charitable than I to have only given him a black eye and swollen lip. I would have done much worse if I had been there.” Christopher smiled, looking gravely at his surprised son’s face. He had never seen his father fight anyone, ever. To hear him day he would have done worse, was very surprising. They chuckled softly at the thought of Christopher launching himself at the man in question.  
“However, perhaps it is all for the best. You can come home, continue your studies. I think we can engage a good tutor to keep your mind busy for a while. And your mum will be delighted to have you home. She misses you terribly.” Christopher stated as the car turned the corner and came to a stop.  
“In fact we will be in London for the duration. At least until your mother delivers.” Christopher exited the car, Michael following him. They had stopped outside Mr. Hollingsworth’s main shop to visit.  
“Why in London? Why isn’t she delivering at Groby, like all the time before?” Michael asked expectantly.   
“Your mother’s pregnancy so far has been significantly different that all the others. We both do not want any complications.”  
“Like with Isabel?” Michael knew about what had happened, that Valentine had almost died.  
“Yes. And we would like to avoid a repeat of that. As much as possible.” Christopher stated as they entered the shop, being warmly greeted by Christopher’s former employer, now business partner.   
The next day, Valentine and Christopher visited Dr. Foster’s new office at St. Bartholomew’s hospital. Dr. Foster explained a few tests he would like to perform, all not very invasive, to rule out certain issues. A few days after that, Dr. Foster came to the townhome to deliver the results. However, before he did, he asked once more if he could listen to baby through his stethoscope. Dr. Foster nodded his head and smiled as he moved around Valentine’s belly.  
“Well, I think you both should be very pleased at what I have to report.” Valentine took Christopher’s hand in hers and gripped in encouragingly at Dr. Foster’s announcement.   
“But why is her pregnancy progressing so much more swiftly that before?” Christopher asked curiously.  
“Oh, it’s not. It’s just that there are two babies in there verse the normal one.” Dr. Foster announced.  
“Twins?” Valentine gasped. “I carrying twins?!”  
“It seems so. I can detected there are two distinct very rapid heartbeats inside the womb. And given Valentine’s increased girth and weight gain, it seems that is the best explanation.”  
“What are the risks of a twin birth?” Valentine asked, seeing Christopher’s pale reaction.  
“There are some. But since you are here in London, we can eliminate a vast majority. I would not be overly concerned unless something changes. At this point, you are very fit and the children seem very normal. However, I would suggest that you take time to rest, especially in your last few weeks of pregnancy. You will need your strength for your delivery.”  
In late October, the twins were delivered without serious complications, although the delivery did last longer than anticipated. The twin boys were named Thomas Henry and Edward James and they were identical to the other.   
Michael returned with the family to Groby. Christopher never told Valentine about what had been said in the incident that caused him to be suspended from Harrows. However, it was all fortuitous, since it had been decided that Michael would not return to Harrows. Christopher decided to send Michael to a much less posh private school, and send him to a more demanding public school. Michael excelled at the new school and was much happier, since he was able to live at home while he was attending. He received an internship at the national science institute right after graduating. Christopher and Valentine were very proud of him.  
The Tietjen’s family continued to grow, in early 1929, Emmalyn Josephine was born. Christopher and Valentine had to admit that there desire for more children, now that Valentine was 37 and Christopher 45, was waning. However, their intimate passion for each other was not waning. They started to employ contraception in their love making, along with the rhythm method, which seemed to be working very well after Emma’s birth. But, like most contraception, passions cannot be delayed and pausing to ensure their use can be disregarded. And in September 1933, the last and final child would be borne to Christopher and Valentine. Her name was Zoe.  
In all, Christopher and Valentine had eight children together, plus Michael. They loved their large family. There was never a dull moment in the home they built. Christopher often thought he never imaged he would be comfortable with the amount of disarray and chaos the children often brought into his life. But he also thought of the quiet moments. Such as the Christmas morning he found all the children, a young adult Michael, Alexander, Daniel, Isabel, Hannah, Thomas, Edward, and Emma asleep all around the Christmas tree waiting for St. Nicholas to arrive. Seeing this, Christopher and Valentine had to work fast to fill the nine stockings hanging from the mantelpiece. Or when the children had personally baked him a birthday cake and sang jolly songs to him on his special day. Or the happy frustration of trying to corral them all for a family photo. Or the sleepless nights when one of them was taken ill, the joy of watching them grow and discover the world. But what kind of world would they discover when they journey outside the protection of Groby Hall? It sometimes paralyzed Christopher with fear, knowing that the world was not the place he wished it would be for his children. He could not protect them forever. The world would come and take them from Valentine and him one day, one by one. Hence he would enjoy his time with them in whatever way was possible.


	18. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1933-1934

Once a week the Tietjens family would dine in the formal dining room at Groby. The formal dinner was something of a tradition, and it allowed everyone in the family learn proper etiquette. The twins, Emma and Zoe were still too young to be a part of the formal dinner time, however everyone else was expected to attend and be polite and follow proper decorum. It wasn’t overly formal, with the men wearing only black tie, but it was a way for the old ways to continue to live at Groby. Valentine enjoyed the evening, but she knew it was just Christopher’s toryism, his longing for simpler times, before the war, before Sylvia, before everything bad that had happened in his life.  
Christopher would sit at the head of the table. Valentine to his left and Michael to his right. Michael was 23 now, and continued to work with the national science institute. He did had not brought up the notion of attending university and it concerned Christopher that time was passing before it would be too late. Valentine, for her part, was in no hurry to see Michael off again. But she knew it was only a matter of time. Alexander and Daniel were to the right of Michael, both 13 and 12 respectively. Isabel and Hannah were to Valentine’s left, both 10 and 7. Hannah had just started to attend the formal dinner, and was very well behaved, for she had seen the trouble some of the other children had gotten into in the past. Valentine never physically punished the children, she never really had to. One stern look from their father was all that was needed when her admonishments were not enough.  
“How are things at the department, Michael?” Christopher asked as he raised his wine glass to his lips.  
“Hmm, things are going brilliantly. You should see some of the things we are working on. In fact, there is a guest scientist who is going to come in to talk about quantum mechanics.”   
“What are quantum mechanics?” Isabel asked curiously. Michael tried to describe the basics to all, but that only prompted more questions and some confused looks. Michael looked to his father, who did have some understanding of the subject, for help. They had taken many long walks talking of grand subjects that it seemed only his and his father’s mind could map out. He loved his father even more for his indulgence of Michael’s internship at the national science institute, instead of going straight on to university.  
“That is too confusing, Michael. Can we talk about something else?” Isabel asked expectantly.  
“Of course.” Michael answered indulgently, smiling at his adorable little sister. “What would you like to talk about?”  
“Are you going to see Abagail again??” Isabel asked brightly to her eldest brother. Both Valentine and Christopher’s heads snapping to attention, looking confused and surprised.  
“Issy! You weren’t supposed to…” Michael paused, seeing Isabel’s shocked response and his parent’s expectant glances.  
“Abagail? Abagail Littleton…the vicar’s daughter…have you been seeing her Michael?” Valentine asked directly. Christopher placed his fork and knife down, and paused as he waited to hear Michael’s answer.   
“Well, I have called on her a time or two.” Michael stated quietly and nonchalantly, blushing slightly. Christopher was well aware of Michael’s attraction to the girl. He had spoken to his father a few times about how to pursue things. Michael made it very clear what he expected Michael to do, and Michael had not agreed. Christopher had made it clear that before Michael pursue any romantic involvement that he should complete his studies at university. Christopher also reminded Michael that he was six years older than Miss Littleton, which made her less than eighteen. Michael had argued that Valentine was eight years younger than his father. In the end, Christopher had made it clear that any involvement would not be encouraged.  
“I thought we had spoken about this, Michael.” Christopher commented calmly. Valentine curiosity was piqued by this exchange, glancing between Michael and Christopher, but she said nothing.  
“Well, you spoke. I listened. And I made it clear I didn’t agree with your guidance, father.” Michael answered pointedly. Christopher’s jaw flexed in reaction to his eldest son’s brash comment.  
“Did you kiss her?” Alexander asked with a giggle and a jab at his younger brother, Daniel. Both he and Daniel had snuck up on Michael and Abagail while on a walk and saw Michael kissing her. They didn’t tell anyone, but they wanted to see their idolized brother’s reaction, not realizing that the moment was not the best to reveal what they had seen. Michael’s head swiveled around in shock and surprise.  
“What?! No! Of course not!” Michael announced through his teeth but stumbled over his response. Clearly his little brothers knew something, because Michael had kissed Abagail, quite bit in fact, but his parents would not approve. Michael glanced back to his parents. Michael’s reaction was enough to tell both Valentine and Christopher the truth.  
“Boys! I will not have this dinner devolve into a shouting match. Remember your manners, please.” Valentine admonished Alexander and Daniel. Hannah just stared wide-eyed at the whole affair. Valentine smiled sweetly to Alexander and Daniel to soften her scolding, and turned towards Michael.  
“Michael, I think we should discuss this after dinner. Since it seems you have already spoken about your intentions with your father, and he has failed to inform me.” Valentine looked pointedly at Christopher, who looked like he had been uncomfortably caught, scratching the back of his head absently. Valentine was not upset truly, she never expected Christopher to tell her everything he spoke with the boys about, however, this was a bit different. Everyone returned to eating and the remainder of the evening was dominated by the younger children’s conversation.   
Later in the evening, Valentine had tucked all the children to bed, Christopher was finishing up reading a story to the twins as she descended into the family area. She saw Michael standing before the fire, gazing at a photograph of Christopher and Valentine before they were married and they still lived in London. He held a glass of whiskey in his hand. He was so in thought he did not hear Valentine enter the room, but then she did not announce herself either. Valentine sat in the leather chair just off to the side, removing her slippers, and tucking her feet under her as she watched Michael. He looked so like his father now. He was a bit shorter than Christopher and his face was a bit wider, but everything else was so similar. From behind sometimes would mistake Michael for Christopher. Michael snapped out of his revelry when he noticed Valentine, his mum.  
“I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t hear you come in.” Michael stated as he sipped from the tumbler of whiskey. He liked his father’s whiskey and figured if tonight was going to be a battle, then he would at least enjoy his father’s favorite whiskey.  
“I didn’t make any noise, you were so deep in your mind. What were you thinking about?” Valentine asked softly, encouragingly. Michael loved his mum. She was always so kind to him, to everyone. He had very few memories of his real mother he held onto. Compared to what Valentine had given him, his mother paled in comparison. But perhaps it was unfair to compare them, his real mother had died when he was young, so there was not a lot of opportunity for her. But still, he could always talk with her, especially when he was troubled.  
“I know that look. You’re troubled about something. Come talk to me like we used to, when it was just you and me. Remember that?” Valentine stated reminding Michael of the time before Alexander’s birth when Michael had come to stay in London. Michael smiled thinking of those times, taking a seat nearest to her.  
“I remember.” Michael sighed. “When I had you all to myself. Suppose that is a selfish thing to say.”  
“But a truthful thing to say. I too liked it when I had you all to myself. But as you got older, others took my place.” Valentine smiled, leaning over and stroking Michael’s hair gently. “You look so much like your father when I first met him.”  
Michael stroked his mum’s hand in appreciation. “No one will ever take your place, mum.”  
“I remember the first time you called me that. We were playing in the park and I was tickling you mercilessly, and you squealed, ‘Stop mum!’ I don’t think you even realized it. It took me everything not to start crying right there. And from then on…” Michael felt a tightness form in his chest as he looked at his mother.  
“Father is so lucky to have found you. We all are. I just hope I can be as lucky as you both.”  
“Oh, Michael…Is that what all of the brooding I saw was about when I came in here?” Valentine asked, pressing Michael to respond. Michael sighed and rubbed his eyes in frustration.  
“It’s that, and so much more, mum.” Michael shook his head softly, slightly defeated. Valentine hated to see any of her children, and yes Michael was hers, carry such a heavy weight on themselves. She desperately wanted to ease what was bothering him, but she also knew he needed to forge his own path. Michael was about to speak, but Christopher entered the family area. Christopher and Michael glanced briefly at each other, Valentine noticed the tense stance each toke in response to the other. Christopher gazed at Valentine, who seemed to plead with her eyes to not be too insistent.   
Christopher went to the crystal whiskey decanter on the sofa table on a silver tray behind where Michael sat. Grayson only put it out when the children were all abed for the evening.   
“Would you like one, Michael?” Christopher asked absently, as he poured two-fingers full into the tumbler.  
“No, I already have some, thank you.” Michael announced, lifting the tumbler in his hand. Christopher nodded and glanced at Valentine.  
“My dear, would you like one as well, or has Michael already asked you?” Christopher asked Valentine, smiling kindly in her direction.  
“No, he didn’t ask me, but yes I would like one.” Valentine sat up as he saw Christopher’s annoyed glance toward the back of his son’s head.  
“I see your manners need some polishing, young sir. Hardly the impeccable manners required to secure a young maiden’s affections.” Christopher noted as he cared the glass to Valentine, whose eyes were blazing at her husband for his comments.  
“Christopher, I was only here a moment before you arrived…” Valentine stated with exasperation as she took the glass from Christopher. Michael bowed his head at this father’s critical comments, tapping his fingers on the glass in annoyance.  
“And I am to presume that offering a young maiden whiskey is a way to win her affections, Father?” Michael asked insolently.   
Christopher said nothing in response to his son’s biting remarks, taking a sip from his whiskey glass. Michael downed the remainder in his glass in one gulp, carelessly placing the glass on the table next to the sofa. The sound was loud in the room full of controlled emotion.  
“And is that was this is about? My manners? Or is it about that fact I won’t follow your orders?!” Michael announced loudly as he stood and faced his father directly. “I’m not a soldier to be told what to do, when to do it, how to do it!”  
“Michael?” Valentine whispered, surprised by the force of his outburst to his father. Christopher stood a bit taller in response, and Valentine knew Michael was treading on thin ice.  
“I would take care how you speak in this house, to me and out of respect for your mother. Now, if you would like discuss this situation I would be happy to do so, but as soon as you have collected yourself to speak in a rational manner.” Christopher stated with finality, as he walked around his son and taking a seat next to Valentine. Valentine took Christopher’s hand to try and calm him. She could feel his anger through his hand she held. She hoped things did not devolve into something worse. But this situation had been undoubtedly brewing for some time now, and it would seem it was to be resolved this night by both men.  
Michael returned to the seat he had occupied before, clasping his hands together in thought. Christopher just waited, patiently for his eldest son to explain himself and his behavior.  
“I’m sorry, father. I just…I just…well, I like Abagail a lot and I don’t see why I have to go to university first before I can pursue her. She seems keen enough with me…besides, who’s to say if she will even wait for me if I go to university now.” Michael stated in an almost pleading voice. Valentine looked with surprise to Christopher who looked away at her incredulous gaze.  
“Christopher Teitjens! Is that what this is about? Forbidding Michael to pursue Abagail Littleton unless he goes to university?” Valentine stated disbelievingly, removing her hand from his in disgust.   
“I simply wanted Michael to be on the right foot before he went off and…”Christopher waived his hand in an aimless direction. Valentine gave Christopher a scornful glance that told him they would discuss this in private later.  
“It doesn’t matter anyway, Father. I’ve decided you are right. I need to go to university, finish my studies and start my life afterwards.” Michael stated somewhat solemnly, almost like a martyr. Christopher sat forward, in hope and surprise.  
“Oh, Michael you don’t have to abandon Abagail if that is what you truly want.” Valentine stated encouragingly, glancing at Christopher to dare him to challenge her.   
“Father is right. Abigail isn’t even out of school yet, and she is probably too young for me. So it would probably be best I went to university. Perhaps I will meet someone there.” Michael stated shyly, with a half-smile.  
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Valentine empathized the word you when she spoke.  
“Yes. I do want this. I think it will help me figure out some things. I just need some time…away…away from Groby.” Michael was finally being honest with them.  
“But you love Groby?” Valentine spoke softly trying to keep Michael talking. He was so much like his father, she knew he needed encouragement to speak his true feelings. She stroked his arm gently, he responded by placing his hand over hers.  
“I do. I love it here. But…but this isn’t the world…the real world. What you and father have here, it’s like a dream. And I’m afraid I’ll never find the same dream.”  
“Your mother and I had to go through a lot to get to this place, the dream, as you call it. It wasn’t easy, and nor should anything with worth be so. Just remember that, Michael.” Christopher stated, his hand covering both Valentine’s and Michael’s. Michael nodded, pulling his hand away. They all relaxed a bit as the conversation continued.  
“Since you have made up your mind to go to university, have you decided on which ones you will apply?” Christopher asked receptively.  
“Actually, there is only one I am interested in.” Michael stated quite seriously. Christopher’s eyebrow came up, “Oh? Which one then?”  
“I actually already applied and...Well…they’ve accepted me.” Michael smiled as he gave the surprising news.  
“Ohhh, Michael! That is wonderful, truly wonderful!” Valentine exclaimed and softly clapping her hands together in excitement. Christopher rose to his feet and grasped his son’s hand, pulling him in for a gentleman’s hug.   
“You ol’ fellow, keeping this from me!” Christopher stated quietly as he embraced his son. Michael loved the fact that his parents were so happy at the news. Everyone sat down.  
“And here I thought this was going to be a battle filled night.” Valentine stated jokingly and laughed with Christopher in delight. Michael chuckled uneasily.  
“So! Who’s accepted the great Michael Tietjens to their hallowed halls?” Valentine asked dramatically. “Manchester? Oxford? Oh dear lord, Imperial College London??”  
“No, none of those I am afraid, mum.” Michael stated sensitively.  
“Oh. Oh, well which one then?” Valentine asked keenly.  
“Well, they have one of the world’s best mechanical engineering departments. They are doing amazing things with analog technology, building machines that can think!” Michael described fervently.  
“Oh my goodness, machines that will think.” Valentine stated breathlessly, Christopher only gazed at this son curious he had not mentioned the name of the place where he was accepted.  
“But where?” Valentine asked. Michael took a deep breath.  
“MIT. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology. In Massachusetts.” Michael announced with an awkward smile. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the acceptance letter he received a few weeks ago, handing it to Valentine.  
“In America.” Valentine whispered as she read the letter, showing Christopher, who glanced over her shoulder. The letter was a glowing review of a paper Michael had sent to them and how much they would love to have him join at the school. Valentine looked at the date of the letter and then handed it to Christopher to continue reading.  
“Michael, that letter is dated almost 2 months ago. Why didn’t you come to us before?” Valentine asked softly, curious in the delay. Michael said nothing.  
“Abigail, I assume.” Valentine stated, Michael nodded in acknowledgement.  
“I told her I wanted to take her with me. But she didn’t want to leave England. At least not for me.” Michael explained as Valentine’s heart broke a bit seeing Michael dejected visage. Valentine swooped over to the sofa, wrapping her arm around Michael’s broad shoulders, comforting him.  
“Oh my dear, sweet boy. Well, it’s her loss. If she to be foolishness enough to spurn your love, then she doesn’t deserve you.”  
“I suppose. But I…I really…like her.” Michael stated, his voice wobbling a bit with emotion he was trying to contain. “So you’re okay with me going to America?”  
“I can’t say we are overly pleased with you being so far away,” Valentine looked at Christopher, who nodded in agreement. “But if it is what you want. Your father and I will support you.”  
“I won’t be so far away. I can phone you every week. And it only takes a few days to get across the Atlantic nowadays. And I promise I will write, to you both.” Michael looked pointedly to his father, as he spoke nervously.  
“Alexander, Daniel, Isabel, Hannah…all of them are going to miss you. You must promise you will come home for Christmas break and perhaps in the spring as well.” Valentine stated trying to extract promise after promise from Michael as the reality of what was about to happen to their eldest son.  
“Easy now, my dear. You might have him think you will miss him as well.” Christopher stated as he strode by. Michael stood up, looking into his father’s eyes. Michael swore he could see unshed tears in them, but Christopher embraced him tightly.  
“I am very, very proud of you.” Christopher moved back and a tear slipped down his face. “Now ol’ fellow, go show those Americans how we do things in England.” Christopher stated jokingly, everyone laughed heartily.   
Later that evening, Valentine and Christopher sat in bed reading. Christopher silently lowered the newspaper, but said nothing. Valentine noticed his silence and paused in her reading.  
“I fear its starting, Valentine.” Christopher stated absently, talking seriously. Valentine lowered closed and lowered her book to her lap. She turned toward Christopher curiously.  
“What is starting?” Valentine asked thoughtfully. Christopher looked over at his wife of 12 years, it was hard sometimes to realize he was about to turn 50 and Valentine would be 42 soon. After all the children she had borne him, she retained much of her youthful beauty and svelte appearance. Christopher reached over and stroked Valentine’s silk covered hip. Valentine purred in arousal as he touched her.  
“Michael, leaving us. Going to America. So much has changed, the world has changed. I never really fit into the old world, but this new one I am certain I have no place in at all.” Christopher spoke earnestly to his wife. “I thought I could keep them all here, Valentine. With us, at Groby. But it’s like Michael said, Groby isn’t the world.” Christopher continued to touch Valentine, and Valentine responded noticing Christopher’s sad expression. She stroked his hair softly from his face in reassurance.  
“But the world is coming into our dream world. First Michael, then Alexander and Daniel, then Isab…” Christopher was interrupted when Valentine kissed him passionately. Christopher returned her kiss with equal passion.  
“Oh my dear, what has got you into such a mood? I can’t be that Michael is leaving. It’s a good thing that he is making his way into the world. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Valentine whispered to her lover, trying to bring him out of his melancholy. Christopher stroked her arm indulgently, nodding to her question.   
“I just keep thinking that if I keep them here, they won’t be…hurt by the roughness of the world.” Christopher admitted. “After what I have been reading in the papers, from my contacts in the government, what Mark has been telling me, I fear things are going to get much worse before they get better.”  
“Christopher, we cannot closet the children away. But nor do we need to fling them carelessly into the world. The children are long way from being ready to be out on their own…and I fear that Michael has been too long delayed from taking flight from the nest. I know you love them, but we have to let them go. Even if it breaks our hearts to do so.” Valentine spoke intently to Christopher, kissing him and pulling him closer to her.   
“You always know what to say to make me feel like the bravest, most splendidly lucky man on this planet.” Christopher spoke as he brushed his lips against Valentine’s lips, rolling her beneath him as he continued to kiss her. Valentine sighed in appreciation of Christopher’s lips upon her throat.   
“And you, old man, know exactly what to do to make me feel like I am the most beautiful forty-year old woman on the planet.” Valentine sighed breathlessly. Christopher laughed against Valentine’s bare breast.   
“Old man you say? Let me show you what this old man can do.” Christopher growled seductively as he continued his erotic assault on Valentine’s lush body.   
“Oh yes, yes Christopher. Please…” Valentine whispered, her hands weaving through Christopher’s golden hair, as he moved lower on her body, pulling her nightgown down as he did. Soon Valentine was completely naked, and Christopher grasped one of Valentine ankle’s gently, raising it to his lips and kissing it softly. Christopher started moving lips down the inside of Valentine’s leg. Valentine didn’t know what was more exciting, the feeling of Christopher’s lips on the inside of her knee, or watching him do it. He moved up Valentine’s thigh, brushing soft kisses on her thigh. Valentine rose up to stroke Christopher’s back, still clothed in his pajama top.   
“This is not fair, Christopher. Take your clothes off, old man.” Valentine stated seductively. Christopher rose up and kissed her lips ardently, while his fingers and Valentine’s worked feverishly at each button and tie of his clothing. But soon, they were both naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. It amazed Christopher that after so many children, Valentine still had the power to drive him mad with passion. His body fit so perfectly into hers and they knew what made each other’s souls soar. It was glorious to think they could do this forever, or as long as their bodies would allow them.  
A few weeks later, the entire family stood outside Groby Hall, saying goodbye to Michael. Alexander and Daniel both appeared on the verge of tears, but they did not shed any. Marchie, now turning gray with age, stood by Valentine, who was holding a year and half old Zoe in her arms. Christopher had Emma in his arms, her head leaning on his shoulder as they watched Michael ride away. Christopher and Valentine quietly held each other’s hands as the car moved down the drive, away from Groby, the Y-year old twins chasing after the car.  
“He promised he would write.” Valentine softly spoke to Christopher as the car left their collective sight. Christopher nodded considerately, allowing Emma to slip gently from his arms to the ground. Just then, from behind them across the side lawn of Groby, Valentine and Christopher noticed someone rushing toward the end of the drive. They both recognized person as young Abagail Littleton. Valentine saw the young girl stand at the end of the drive, her hand over her mouth in emotion as she watched the car drive far off into the distance. Clearly she regretted not taking Michael’s offer, but perhaps it was for the best.


	19. Interlude - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time since I updated.....lots of stuff going on.

Ana had spent the better part of the last month reading the first three journals, making notes about interesting observations her Grandma Val wrote about, and she wrote. She had to do it in secret and of course everyone was totally oblivious to what she was on to. However, she now had a new appreciation of Groby Hall. She had a new appreciation for her aunts and uncles as well. She would have never guessed her Aunt Isabel had almost killed Grandma Val. And Uncles Alexander and Daniel, she was most curious about them since she had never been able to meet them. And she was not even aware they had existed, well, maybe she had, but had not thought to ask anything further. It was easy to forget about people in a large family, either because it hurt too much to think about or just from sheer number.

Ana walked through the main gallery, gazing upward to the portraits and paintings that had hug there forever. She thought about the things she had read as Grandma Val had arrived at Groby for the first time. It must have been quite grand to enter such a place, a daunting task as well. 

Ana went into the library, which she knew had once been her Grand papa’s study. She looked at the desk that still stood in the same place as she can remember. It was dusted regularly, and she knew people used it occasionally, but not in a regular use. For most who lived at Groby and knew its history, this was Christopher Tietjen’s desk. Ana ran her hand over the worn spots thinking about all that had happened at this desk over the years. It made her head spin to think about Grandpapa sitting here, writing, calculating, and listening to the radio. Even after television had become popular, Grandpapa still enjoyed the radio more. 

But Ana was on a mission. She wished to find a key to the top floor storage rooms, which acted as an attic of sorts. She knew that Aunt Isabel had moved a great deal of her great-grandparents things up there and she was curious about what she might find. There might be a skeleton key in the desk that would open the older doors that had not been upgraded to more modern door hardware. She quickly pulled open each drawer, until she found what she was looking for. She grabbed the iron skeleton key in her grip in triumph, as she swiftly left the room.

Most of the house was empty today, so Ana knew she could explore a bit more freely without being noticed. Ana climbed the short flight of stairs from the 2nd floor to the attic space. There was dust on the railing, which meant people didn’t come up her often, not even to dust. Ana moved carefully towards the painted white door with trepidation, but also with excitement. Everything she had read thus far had been so amazing. She hoped she would perhaps finds some things that would further her journey of discovery of her family’s amazing patriarch and matriarch.

The key turned roughly in the keyhole and the handle was hard to turn. But once it was free, the door swung open easily. The dry heated air brew her long hair about, but Ana was quick to step inside and shut the door behind her. She set the key in the keyhole on the inside of the door to keep it safe. Ana looked about and saw nothing but sheets draped over this and that. There was no telling what might be under each sheet. She moved through around the edges of the room. The air was stale and dry. Ana moved to open a small window on the side wall, the cool damp air was welcome in the dusty room. Most of the items on the outer edges were more modern items, nothing really exciting. Ana maneuvered pasted those items, trying to reach the items further back. She noticed a slender object and was inexplicably moved toward it. There was larger square item next to it, looked like perhaps a wardrobe. Ana pulled the sheet from the larger square, and it was a wardrobe, a quite nice one in fact. She pulled the door handle open and peered inside. Her eyes brightened at what she saw. Her Grand papa’s army uniform was hanging inside, and next to it was the dress…the dress from when photograph…from the night at the theatre. Ana put her hand over her mouth at the sheer beauty of the dress. Both were carefully wrapped in a modern plastic hanging bag, undoubtedly someone had taken the time to ensure its safety. She could well imagine Grandma Val doing such. Oh how she wanted to actually touch the dress. Maybe she could even wear it if she was careful. Ana gazed at the army officer’s uniform jacket and thought how handsome Grandpapa must have been in it. She had seen pictures, but here it was. He had seen such horrors while wearing this uniform. Why keep it, Ana thought. Ana was jarred away from her rambling thoughts at the sound of voices below. It was her Aunt Isabel and Zoe. She dare not get caught up here. She swiftly closed the small window as she walked to the door, quietly exiting, but promising herself she would come back to find other treasures. The siren’s call of the unread journals called to her, and Ana was impervious to their charm. It would be another late night to be sure.


	20. Life Goes On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1937-1938ish

Two years went by and as promised Michael had faithfully written his parents and his siblings. His calls we less frequent due to the cost, but in general he was exceling at MIT. He was making good business and industry contacts, as well as new friends and colleagues. Valentine always waited expectantly for the letters to arrive and would read them almost immediately. 

It was one such day that a new letter from Michael arrived at Groby. Alexander and Daniel, 16 and 15 respectively, had just arrived home from a day with their tutor. As usual, they were debating something, but Daniel would typically relent and finally agree with Alexander, no matter how audacious the final outcome. The leader and the follower that was Alexander and Daniel. While Alexander was brash and outgoing, Daniel was more reserved and less outgoing. Daniel had many traits of his father’s rational and patient nature. Alexander was not unlike Valentine, with a drive and passion for those things he believed in greatly. This had manifested itself at an early age, such as Alexander wanting, no demanding, he be able to learn to ride a horse by himself by the time her was six. Valentine can remember moments when her heart was caught in her throat as she watch Alexander repeatedly fall off the horse when he was not concentrating. Christopher had been equally concerned, but watched with a bit a manly and fatherly pride as Alexander had not been deterred from his goal. Daniel just followed Alexander’s lead, although Daniel turned out to be a better, more natural horseman than Alexander.  
And so from then on, the two of them were connected at the hip. Alexander had the fair coloring of both of his parent, but as Daniel reached his teenage years his color changed to a less fair shade. Both boys, whose parents fostered a love of the outdoors in, where broad shouldered and strong due. Christopher was also not against giving them manual labor as a lesson when he noticed Alexander’s boundless energy needed an outlet. Both boys were good students, but not in the way Michael had excelled at his studies. Valentine would often fret about her eldest son’s future. He did not seem to have a specific direction. And where Alexander went, Daniel would follow. Valentine often mused that Daniel was a sort of anchor, keeping Alexander closer to reality. Had Daniel not been around, Valentine mused her stubborn Alexander would soar straight to the heavens in his search for the next thing to entertain his brain. 

“Oh, Christopher. I worry about Alexander.” Valentine spoke with quiet concern as she sat in Christopher’s study. Christopher, having to now wear spectacles to read the ledgers, peered over the rims of the wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Christopher saw the tutor’s report sitting in Valentine’s lap she had just finished reading.  
“What does the tutor report in his letter?” Christopher queried, looking back to the ledger, trying not to be too concerned before he heard what the issue was. He absently looked at the ledger book again, but his eye caught the letter he had received from his friends in London. He kept in contact with Vincent Macmaster, but he rarely saw Vinnie any more. The thought brought a soft sigh from Christopher, for both his long-lost friend and the news the letter contained. He would not think about it….the news that trouble was once again brewing in Germany. The British government was aware of a new player influence on the politics of Germany…Adolf Hitler. His mind was so absorbed in this thoughts, he finally realized Valentine was talking.

“…and he seems distracted about everything. Scatterbrained almost. Christopher, are you listening to me? Christopher?!” Valentine called, waving her hand a bit to drawn his attention. Christopher blinked a bit and looked back to Valentine.  
“Yes. I’m listening…you were speaking about Alexander and the tutor’s report.” Christopher announced, glancing at Valentine, a slight smile on his aged face. Valentine smirked, stood and walked to her husband. She sauntered over to her husband, plucking the pen from his hand. Christopher glanced up at his still beautiful wife, her eyes dancing with mischief. Quickly, Valentine gingerly sat on Christopher’s lap as he sat at his desk, her arms around her husband’s neck. Both smiled and giggled playfully, Christopher’s deep timbered laugh never failing to send shivers down Valentine’s back. It didn’t help that Christopher’s hand rested on his wife’s hip and his other drew lazy circles on Valentine’s back.

“Am I no longer able to keep my husband’s attention? Or have musty ledger books become more appealing?” Valentine whispered seductively as she brushed her soft lips against Christopher’s, gently removing the spectacles from blocking her access to her still delicious husband. Even at fifty-two and forty-four respectively, Christopher and Valentine still enjoyed each other physically, although not as much as they had in the past. They often showed more simple acts of affection, such as these, which they both enjoyed more in many ways. After all the years they had been together, there wasn’t much they had not tried in the bedroom…..a fact that would shock most who thought they knew Christopher Tietjens.

“Ahhhh, my dove, no book could ever be as appealing as you on my lap as you ply our seductive wiles upon the unsuspecting.” Christopher spoke with honeyed sweetness, as he kissed Valentine softly. Valentine laughed softly as Christopher whispered what he would like to do to her.  
“Mr. Tietjens! Such talk will not keep you from getting in trouble from not listening….”Valentine slapped her husband arm playfully, wagging her finger at Christopher. “I was speaking about the boys’ tutor! No the Alexander or Daniel. Now, what has you so distracted?” Valentine asked playfully.

Christopher did know if he should dare bring up the subject….War….the thought curdled the contents of his stomach when he thought about it. But there was still time for things to be worked out. No need to bring up something that had not happened.

“Nothing, my dove. Just a letter from Macmaster. That is all.” Christopher stated softly as he stroked Valentine’s upper arm in reassurance, smiling. “Now…where were we….” Christopher spoke softly as he pulled his wife’s lips to his so he could devour them. He would never get enough.

Another year later…..

“I am telling you that she likes me, Daniel.” Alexander stated with self-assurance, as he bit into an apple he had picked up from the kitchen that he and Daniel had just passed through. Daniel walked next to his older brother, his brow furrowed. They spoke of Willomena Davenport, a young tenant’s daughter, both Alexander’s and Daniel’s eye a few months back. After that, it seemed it was a competiton to see which one of them could get her to give her heart to. Neither had spoken about the “quest” as they called it, using the term quest to mask what they were doing from their family, especially their parents. They both knew that their father would not approve of them both pursuing Willomena. Not to mention their mother. There were a plenty of pretty, young girls from either of them to pursue in the local area. And the Tietjens boys were certainly not unattractive. This was not lost on both parents. 

At dinner one evening, as the entire Tietjen’s family, sans Michael, were in attendance, as well as General Campion. Campion and Christopher spent much of the dinner conversing with each other and the remainder of the room was lively with other discussions. 

"Oh, Mummy! I forgot to tell you! Alexander and Daniel are on a quest!” Hannah, now eleven years old, stated to her mother, whose eyebrow came up in curiosity. She glanced at her oldest boys, who had been absorbed into the conversation with their father and General Campion. The must have heard Hannah’s comment, because both Daniel and Alexander glanced at each other nervously.

“Quest? What kind of quest?” She asked Hannah, then looking at her sons pointedly.

“It’s nothing. Just a silly competition between brothers. And not for nosy little sisters!” Alexander spoke fiercely, looking at Hannah meaningfully. Hannah, for her part, glared back at him and swiftly poked her tongue out at her older brother at his comment.

“Alexander! Hannah!” Valentine spoke directly. “Alexander, apologize to her sister this instant. She did not deserve your rude comment. Hannah you may be excused for your unladylike behavior.” In the commotion, Christopher realized something had occurred that he and Campion had not noticed. When apologies were given and things settled, Hannah left the table. But not before she made her way to say good night to her father and her mother. Hannah did not look happy about being dismissed, but neither did she look like she was all that disappointed. Formal dinner evenings were not her favorite. Christopher kissed his second oldest daughter softly on the cheek, then whispered something to her, and Hannah’s eyes grew bright in excitement and she nodded her head enthusiastically, softly clapping her hands a bit. Christopher smiled tenderly in response, softly shooing her off to bed. Valentine continued dining on her supper, smiling to herself at Christopher’s soft heart towards his daughters. Ever when Valentine is trying to be stern and teach the girls proper decorum, Christopher would always sooth them with his sweet disposition. All the girls had him wrapped around their little finger.

The next day, Christopher was rode his horse toward the Davenport tenant farm. He had meant to speak with Master Davenport about some reports of sheep being killed. As he approached the Davenport farm, he dismounted and tied his horse to a riding post in the yard. Christopher went to front door of the farmer’s home. Knocking once, then twice, with no response. Christopher walked towards the barn area, looking for Master Davenport. He then heard one sound, then a second. Christopher could not quite make it out, but it sounded like voices in the barn. He moved inside the barn, his eyes adjusting the darker interior. 

“Davenport, are you in here?” Christopher call out. Then he heard a shuffling and saw movement down in one of the horse stalls heaped with hay. He moved toward the sound, and turned to see Willomena Davenport and a young man huddling in the hay, in such a state of undress as to not deny what was happening between the two of them. Christopher’s mouth drew in a thin line of disapproval. He was unable to see the young man’s face, and he had not turned to look at Christopher. 

“It’s not what you think, Mr. Tietjens! I….I….he didn’t force me.” Willomena cried out. Christopher looked away as she adjusted her clothing to be better covered her nakedness. 

“I am sure he did not. But that hardly makes the situation any more appropriate, Ms. Davenport. Your father will not be happy when he finds out about this.” Christopher stated matter-of-factly. Willomena’s face turned ashen when she realized the reality of what she had been caught doing. 

“And you! Look at me! How dare you take advantage of a young girl like this! I have a good mind to call the magistrate! What will your fath….?” Christopher shouted as he grabbed the cowering young man forcefully up to face him. His bellows falling silent as he looked into eyes so like his own. At his son, Daniel.   
Daniel’s eyes were wide with fear as he witnessed his father’s anger. He had never seen his father this angry. Christopher released his son suddenly, he looked at Willomena and back to Daniel. 

“Oh, Daniel, what have you done?” Christopher whispered in disbelief, his hand coming up to his mouth. 

“I’ve done nothing that I would not do again. Or you for that matter!” Daniel shouted at his father. Christopher was taken aback at his son’s response, but his anger boiled over, slapping his son forcefully across the face. Christopher had never struck any of his children in anger, like he just had.

“What do you mean but your comment? I would NEVER take advantage…” Christopher growled through is teeth as she pointed forcefully at Willomena.

“No? Alexander and I know about everything, Father! Everything you and our mother try and hide about what you did! The fact that you took mother to your bed without the benefit of marriage! And you were still married to another, Michael’s mother! About how Alexander and I were born before you married mother!” Daniel shouted at his father. 

“Daniel, you don’t understand….it was different…” Christopher tried to say but Daniel continued to shout.

“Did you think we would never find out?” Daniel laughed soullessly. “The great, honorable, stalwart Christopher Tietjens is nothing more than selfish blackguard.” Daniel spoke with venom. 

“You disgraced our mother. And I will never forgive you.” The last comment was spoken in just a whisper, Daniel’s voice breaking a bit with emotion, perhaps in sorrow having to say to a man he loved so much. Christopher was speechless. He stood looking at his son. But Daniel turned away from him, offering his hand to Willomena to help her up from her seat among the hay. Holding her hand, Daniel softly pulled Willomena out of the barn, glancing back at his father, his eyes burning with rage.


	21. Chapter 19 - War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1938-1939

**Hi guys...I know it has been a LONG time...but I think I am back with this one.....major angst and fluffness to ensue. I hope you guys are enjoying this rather lengthy story.....your encouragement and feedback is great and keeps me motivated!!**

 

Almost six months had passed, Christmas, New Year’s had come and gone, and Daniel and Christopher had not spoken of that day. The year was 1938.

Christopher could not bear to tell Valentine what her son had said to him. Even though deep down, Christopher knew it was true. He was selfish for taking Valentine as his lover. _But hadn’t he done right by her after Sylvia’s death?_ He would often think as he toured the vast grounds of Groby by himself, his favorite roan following him as he walked ahead. _Perhaps this is what Sylvia’s mother had cursed him with; perhaps this was his penance. Had he not truly wished he was free from Sylvia so he could be true to Valentine? But he had never wished Sylvia dead…had he??? I will not allow my burden to be carried by anyone other than myself_ , he thought stoically. It was the one thing he withheld from Valentine. She had sensed there was something afoot. His relationship with his son Daniel was tense and overly formal. Soon there would come a breaking point, Christopher was unsure how he was going to face it.

He paused by a low stone wall, built long before anyone could remember. Some of the cobbled blocks of local stone had fallen from where the mortar had eroded away. Christopher stooped and picked up each heavy stone, placing back to its rightful place. _The passage of time, all things change, all things erode away_ , Christopher thought, touching the ancient rocks with reverence. _Could he mend the mortar of his relationship with Daniel, before his son tumbled away as well?_

Christopher was so deep in thought, he did not hear the footsteps behind him approaching. He turned when he sensed the presence behind him.

“I brought some mortar to mend the wall.” Came a strong, deep-timbered voice of Daniel, standing a few feet away, a bucket and trowel in hand, dressed in work clothes and a newsboy cap. Christopher turned to Daniel with a bit of a shocked look on his face. Recovering, Christopher nodded and stepped aside as Daniel moved forward to begin working.

“I noticed the wall was crumbling a few days ago, so I thought I would….” Daniel explained as he adjusted the rocks slightly to put them back in place. Christopher moved forward and began assisting. They were silent for a while as they worked.

“This wall has been here since before the Tietjens came to Groby.” Christopher took a deep breath as he worked with his son.

“Seems everything at Groby is in need of a little….repairing nowadays.” Daniel commented softly. “But I suppose that is to be expected….nothing lasts forever….no one is perfect, I suppose.”

Christopher and Daniel looked at each other for a few moments. Christopher heard what his son said, his beautiful, wonderful son was trying to say to him. Christopher ducked his head down, attempting to hide is emotional response, and continued to work. An hour later the repair on the wall was complete. Gathering the tools and preparing to leave, Daniel touched Christopher’s arm softly.

“Father, I don’t want to quarrel with you anymore. What I said, that day, it was wrong. I shouldn’t…”

Daniel was stopped mid-sentence as Christopher pulled him into his arms fervently. Daniel was still a bit shorter than Christopher, unlike Alexander who was 3 inches taller. Christopher held his son for a few moments, his eyes welling with tears.

“I am sorry.” Christopher whispered. Daniel held his father as well, more to comfort him than anything else. Daniel nodded softly as Christopher release him, stroking his son’s face and cheek lovingly, seeing the shine of tears in Daniel’s eyes that he was blinking rapidly to contain.

“Come along. I am sure your mother has some hot tea and warm biscuits waiting for us.”  Christopher gathered up the reins of the roan, and walked side-by-side with his son back to the house. “And I want to hear all about how things are progressing with Ms. Davenport….”

Daniel’s cheeks blushed softly at the question, but smiled. “Well, Alexander is fit to be tied that she fancies me rather than him.” Christopher laughed soundly as they walked up the lawn to the house. They did not see the lone figure in the upstairs window watching their approach with a knowing smile.

Valentine let the curtain fall as she watched Daniel and Christopher walk back toward the house. She smiled widely at the fact their rift had finally been mended. She knew all along what their argument had been about. She supposed she should have been angry that Christopher had withheld it from her, but she couldn’t. She understood Christopher far more than he thought. And it did not take a mathematician to figure out that something terribly awry had taken place. When weeks went by, with no resolution in sight, she confronted Daniel and demanded he tell her what had happened. Valentine recalled that terrible day.

_Whack!!_ The sound of Valentine’s hand forcefully slapping her son’s cheek, causing him to take a step back, holding his cheek with his hand in shock. His mother had never struck any of the children ever. But now, he saw the blaze of pure fury in his mother’s tear-filled eyes.

“How dare you! How dare you even compare what you were doing with Ms. Davenport to your father and I!” Valentine shouted. “You have no right to pass judgment on matters you have no knowledge of, Daniel! What you did was horrible! And done purely out of spite since you had gotten caught. It is unworthy of you to disrespect your father in that manner!” Valentine stated through gritted teeth.

“And what about your respect, mother? Where was father’s respect for you when he made you his mistress? Flaunting you about London like a prized dog….” Daniel shouted back at his mother, but pulled back in shock at his own words, swallowing loudly. Valentine’s face fell as she gasped in shock, her hand coming to her mouth. Valentine steadied herself against the settee nearby, gripping the edge like her life depended on it. Daniel moved forward in concern, but stopped when Valentine’s heartbroken looked at him.

“Where…..where did you hear such things, Daniel? Who told you such lies?”

“Does it matter? It’s true isn’t it? Alexander and I are bastards, born on the wrong side of the sheets.” Daniel almost snarled at the last part of the sentence.

“Now you listen to me, Daniel Tietjens. Your father would literally do ANYTHING for me, or you, or any of his children. It matters not if you were born before we were married or after. He loves you! And someone has poisoned your mind against him. I will not stand for it, Daniel. I will not have you speak ill of your father in this house. So to gain back proper balance in this situation, I shall endeavor to give you the entire story regarding your father and I’s life before we were married. And after that, you may judge for yourself if your father was dishonorable toward me.” Valentine sat on the settee, patting the seat next to her for Daniel to sit.

“If I tell you this story, you must promise to never speak of it to your father or your siblings.”

“But…”

“Promise? I will have your word you will not tell them I have told you this.” Daniel nodded softly as Valentine began to tell him the story of how they meet all the way through to the moment of their marriage. It was soon apparent to Daniel that he had been totally wrong about his father.

Valentine smiled as she heard the sounds of male laughter as Daniel and Christopher entered the large house. Things were again put to rights at Groby.

oOo

Fall 1938

Michael came home for the summer and was preparing to return to the United States. He had informed the family he had met a charming young woman at university and was intent on asking her to marry him. Needless to say, everyone in the family was excited to hear about her and wanted to know when they would meet her.

“Well, if she says yes…” Michael started to explain, but was interrupted.

“Of course she is going to say yes! How could she say no to all this charm…” Isabel, now 15, stated sweetly as she pinched both of Michael’s cheeks. Everyone laughed at Isabel’s comical antics.

“…if she says yes, I think I will have her and her family come to visit for the Christmas holidays, if that is acceptable to you, mum?” Christopher sat next to Valentine, who had 5 year-old Zoe in her lap, his hand on her thigh.

“I think that would be absolutely wonderful. I cannot wait to meet her. She sounds lovely, and wonderfully modern. A woman going to university, in mathematics no less. She is a girl after my own heart.” Valentine spoke fondly. Christopher smiled at Valentine, lightly squeezing her thigh is silent agreement. Valentine still retained her suffragette principles, and instilled these into all her daughters, much to Christopher’s chagrin at times.

“I want to go to university!” Isabel announced. “I am very good at my sums. My tutor says I do them faster than most of the boys he tutors!”

“Me too! I want to go too!” 13-year-old Hannah shouted in tandem with her older sister.

“You will all go in due time. But first, it’s getting late. And you all need to get to bed.” Valentine announced to the sounds of a few whines.

“But I want to stay up with the grown-ups!” Isabel pouted. Valentine stood up, carrying a now sleeping Zoe in her arms.

“There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. Now come along, all of you. You too Isabel!”

“I shall be up there short to read to all of you. First one into bed gets to pick the story.” Christopher spoke quietly to all the young children were being shuffled out of the room by Valentine and Margie. Soon four children were racing up the stairs, pushing and shoving each other in boisterous play to be the first to their beds. Christopher, Daniel, Alexander, and Michael chuckled as the watched the race play out, with Hannah avoiding the scrum and making it up the stairs first. A good bet she would be picking the story tonight, and she loved _Peter Pan._

About an hour later, all the younger children in bed, Christopher returned to the family room. Valentine was pouring tumblers of bourbon, which Christopher accepted appreciatively. Valentine cozied up next to Christopher on the settee, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. Daniel, Alexander, and Michael were playing poker in front of the fire.

“So father...everyone in America is buzzing about the Munich Agreement between England, France, and Italy with Germany. What are your feelings on it?” Michael asked absently, throwing his cards down as he lost again to Daniel, who laughed in pure enjoyment.

Christopher regarded his bourbon glass appreciatively, nuzzling Valentine with his cheek softly, his mouth turned down in some unknown, rarely seen emotion.

“My thoughts are in alignment with Mr. Churchill. England has suffered a total and unmitigated defeat by the agreement.”

“What!? You can’t be serious, father!” Alexander announced with surprise. “The agreement prevents war. That is what Prime Minister Chamberlain said on the radio. ‘A symbol of the desire of our two peoples never to go to war with one another again.’ Surely you can agree to that?” The older boys were well aware of their father’s exploits in the Great War, although Christopher was very careful to not glamorize any of it. But he could see the reverence and respect that shown in the boys’ eyes whenever the subject came up. He was no hero, but they looked him as one.

“Well, Alexander, the propaganda machine that is the British government would have you believe that this agreement is to avoid war. However, there are many issues that make this agreement poisonous to the whole of Europe. Firstly, the Czechoslovakians were not invited to the discussion, however it grants Chancellor Hitler the right to expand its borders.” Christopher took a gulp of his bourbon, forcefully swallowing it as he continued. “You will find that in a period of time which may be measured by years, or by months, Czechoslovakia will be engulfed in the Nazi régime. England has sustained a defeat without a war, the consequences of which will travel far with us along our road.”

Card game forgotten at their father’s solemn words, and Valentine’s concerned look at Christopher.

“As Mr. Churchill put it rather succinctly, ‘England has been offered a choice between war and shame. She has chosen shame, and will get war’.”

Later that evening, Valentine climbed into the bed. Christopher was sitting at the edge, seemingly lost in thought. Valentine stroked his back softly, to which Christopher just looked back over his shoulder slightly, before turning back. His shoulders were slumped. _He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders_ , Valentine thought as she moved to sit behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle to hold him close.

Christopher wrapped one hand around Valentine’s interwoven hands around his middle, stroking her knuckles softly, but not looking at her. He could not. Not with that he had to say to her.

“War is coming, Valentine.”

Valentine closed her eyes, and brushed her lips lightly across her lover’s shoulder in silent encouragement. She reached up and brushed her fingers through Christopher’s blonde hair, massaging his scalp tenderly.

“You don’t know that, Christopher. You have to believe that the government would not want to go through another……another war.” Valentine’s voice caught at the memory of that awful time.

“I do hope that is true. But…..the memories of powerful men are fickle. They won’t be sending their sons to the front lines….it will be…There is talk of conscription if war were to be declared. All able body men…....” Valentine knew what Christopher was seeing in his mind’s eye. His eldest sons on the front lines.

“I will do everything in my power to ensure they are safe, Valentine. Even if it means giving up Groby.” Valentine could not speak, she just held her husband as they contemplated what war would mean for their family.

One year later, Germany invaded Poland. It is announced on the radio…..the Tietjens family, sans Michael who now married and living in America, listening:

_This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final Note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us._

_I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany. You can imagine what a bitter blow it is to me that all my long struggle to win peace has failed. Yet I cannot believe that there is anything more or anything different that I could have done and that would have been more successful._

_Up to the very last it would have been quite possible to have arranged a peaceful and honorable settlement between Germany and Poland, but Hitler would not have it. He had evidently made up his mind to attack Poland whatever happened, and although He now says he put forward reasonable proposals which were rejected by the Poles, that is not a true statement. The proposals were never shown to the Poles, nor to us, and, although they were announced in a German broadcast on Thursday night, Hitler did not wait to hear comments on them, but ordered his troops to cross the Polish frontier. His action shows convincingly that there is no chance of expecting that this man will ever give up his practice of using force to gain his will. He can only be stopped by force._

_We and France are today, in fulfilment of our obligations, going to the aid of Poland, who is so bravely resisting this wicked and unprovoked attack on her people. We have a clear conscience. We have done all that any country could do to establish peace. The situation in which no word given by Germany's ruler could be trusted and no people or country could feel themselves safe has become intolerable._

_And now that we have resolved to finish it, I know that you will all play your part with calmness and courage. At such a moment as this the assurances of support that we have received from the Empire are a source of profound encouragement to us._

_The Government have made plans under which it will be possible to carry on the work of the nation in the days of stress and strain that may be ahead. But these plans need your help. You may be taking your part in the fighting services or as a volunteer in one of the branches of Civil Defense. If so you will report for duty in accordance with the instructions you have received. You may be engaged in work essential to the prosecution of war for the maintenance of the life of the people - in factories, in transport, in public utility concerns, or in the supply of other necessaries of life. If so, it is of vital importance that you should carry on with your jobs._

_Now may God bless you all. May He defend the right. It is the evil things that we shall be fighting against - brute force, bad faith, injustice, oppression and persecution - and against them I am certain that the right will prevail._

Valentine openly wept as the declaration was announced, Christopher and Isabel trying to comfort her. At the conclusion of the announcement, Christopher rose from his seat, as Isabel held Valentine, walking to the window facing the back lawn of Groby. He watched as sweet Hanna, Thomas, Edward, Emma, and Zoe played without a care in the world. His chin trembled a bit with contained emotion. How he wished he could forget. War was coming, and this time he knew what the cost would be.

Perhaps this was the true curse Mrs. Satterwaite spoke of all those years ago. He closed his eyes remembering her words as a tear slipped silently down his cheek:

_‘No parent should have to endure this…to have to a child die before you is the greatest agony….. I hope you never have to endure what I am enduring now, Christopher Tietjens.’_


	22. Only Time Will Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring 1940

Spring 1940

War had come to England. Although the geography of the small island kept a majority of its population relatively safe from the Nazi regime, the effects of war could be seen and felt all around the country. Christopher and Valentine waited anxiously day after the day war was declared for notification from the British military to arrive at their doorstep, informing them that Alexander and Daniel were required to report for duty. Michael, thankfully, being married and in America, was somewhat safer than Alexander and Daniel, although he could be called to fight as well. Christopher utilized his contacts within the government to determine how the conscription would function. It was his attempt to protect his young sons. But it seemed all for not.

“Perhaps it would be best if you went to stay in America, with Michael?” Valentine spoke softly and encouragingly to Alexander, whose hand she held with both of her own as she spoke. Christopher sat nearby, his face unreadable. Christopher knew it was only a matter of time before they came for them both. Time was running short. He spoke with Valentine, and decided to “propose” a visit to see Michael, which in turn would allow them to remain safe at least for a little while. Daniel sat next to Alexander, both 20 and 19 respectively now, full of youth, vigor, and passion….a tempting morsel for the jaws of war, Christopher mused as he watch his sons consider their mother’s proposal.

“Why now, Mother? Why are you so keen to send us to America now?” Alexander queried his eyes, so like her own, narrowing in suspicion. Alexander and Daniel were not unaware of their mother’s feelings regarding war. Not that it mattered, any mother would be hesitant to send their child off to fight. “Besides, I doubt the ports are letting any able bodied men pass through the ports, anyway. I know what you are trying to do…both of you.” Alexander and Daniel looked at their parents with sympathetic eyes. Valentine said nothing, looking back helplessly at Christopher as she continued to hold Alexander’s hand. Christopher continued to sit silently, his face paling a bit since he knew what was happening. He wasn’t going to be able to protect them or stop them.

“Mother, Father…Germany has successfully invaded and occupying Denmark and Norway. Now they are attacking Belgium and Holland! How much longer until set their sights on England herself?” Alexander spoke passionately, turning to Daniel slightly who nodded his head gently with encouragement.

“We want to do our part. We want to fight.” Alexander stated solemnly. Valentine sobbed, her hand covering her mouth, Alexander squeezed his mother’s hand softly, gazing at her understandingly.

“We?” Valentine whispered, her voice shaking as she looked past Alexander to Daniel, who bowed his head, unable to see the distress they were causing their loving mother. Christopher’s jaw clenched a bit tighter, but he said nothing. Unable to control her emotions, Valentine excused herself from the room suddenly, departing the room. All three men in the room stood in polite deference as they watched Valentine’s quaking shoulders round the corner out of view.

The silence that followed was thick with accusation. Christopher did not have to say anything to the boys, nor did they have to hear it to know their father did not support this decision. Christopher rounded the settee, his mind reeling at the reality of the situation. He paused, his back to both Alexander and Daniel, staring at the wall filled with cases of books.

“Have you already enlisted?” Christopher asked quietly.

“Yes. Both of us.” Daniel answered hesitantly.

“And you did so without even consulting us.” Christopher stated damningly, it wasn’t a question, just a statement of fact. Christopher continued to speak with his back turned to his sons.

“Father, will you at least look at us as you condemn us.” Alexander asked pointedly, a bit annoyed at his father keeping his back to them.

“Why? Why should I turn and face you! You…Both of you did not face your mother or I before you made this decision!” Christopher whipped around, his hands clenching the back of the ornate chair between him and his sons, as he glared with anger and sorrow combined. “Think you deserve our gratitude for at least informing us prior to your departure?”

“We did not tell you because we knew you would try to convince us not to!” Daniel shouted.

“Of course I would have!” Christopher shouted back, his hands shaking a bit as he faced his eldest two children bore by his sweet Valentine so long ago. Back when life was so much simpler for them, their love so new. It broke his heart to see his grown sons so adamant to join the battle. It was true, eventually the battle would come to England before long. Christopher just did not want his children in the middle of it.

“Many other noblemen’s sons in Yorkshire have already left, months ago. They are volunteering and their parents are supporting their sons….” Alexander tried to explain some of the issues with them remaining at Groby, but Christopher interrupted Alexander.

“I don’t care about their sons! If they want to sacrifice them to the gods of war to avoid looking false, let them. But you are my sons! I will not lay so casually as precious a sacrifice on the altar of patriotism. I would rather be called a traitor to my country than to have either of you exposed to the horrors of war.” As Christopher spoke his gaze grew blank, as remembering something long ago, something horrible. A single tear slipped its moorings and fell from Christopher’s eye. Alexander was speechless; Daniel was concerned, as he moved towards their father.

“Father, please. We both do not want our final days here at Groby to be full of anger or resentment.” Daniel touched his father’s shoulder and covered his father’s clenched hand on the chair, glancing at Alexander, who moved to the other side of Christopher. Slowly, they both lovingly embraced their father’s shoulders. Christopher pulled them both to him, kissing each of their heads, tears coming in earnest now. Christopher could feel his son’s sobs as he held them both to him. How he wanted to keep them right there with him, but he knew it was not going to be so. A few minutes went by, and the men disengaged, their emotional interlude having run its course. They each straightened their appearance.

“When are you required to report?” Christopher asked, straightening his coat a bit.

“One week from today.” Alexander spoke nervously. Christopher’s eyes shot up in surprise. Not much time to ensure they had what they needed.

“Not much time. We must see what can be done to assuage your poor mother’s heart.” Christopher spoke as he patted his sons on the shoulder encouragingly.

 

oOo

Christopher looked for Valentine after leaving the boys in the family area. He found her in the nursery, now only occupied by Zoe, who was out playing with Emma and Hannah. It was quiet in the nursery as Christopher entered. Valentine sat in rocking chair in the corner, slowly rocking back and forth, her eyes closed, a sad, soft smile on her face. Christopher stood in the doorway watching her, but said nothing. Perhaps he should leave her to her musings. He turned to leave the doorway.

“Don’t go.” Valentine spoke weakly, pleadingly. Christopher turned back, leaning against the doorjamb. Valentine did not open her eyes, but continued to rock.

“I remember. I remember what war felt like. But its….this is different. It feels so different. So much worse….so much more frightening.” Valentine’s voice shook at the last word, her eyes opening to reveal them to be filled with fear. Christopher moved forward and knelt next to the chair, he stoked Valentine’s cheek softly.

“I am scared too, my dove.” Christopher kissed Valentine’s trembling lips in shared emotion, their foreheads leaning against each other, their hands holding each other in desperation.

“I…I don’t…..I don’t know if I can do it, Christopher. See them off. To war.”

“You must. Just like you did for me.” Christopher reminded Valentine of that time long ago when they had meant to consummate their love, only to be thwarted by the untimely arrival of Valentine’s brother.

“Oh God. So long ago….seems like another world.” Valentine whispered, as she remembered, her eyes closed, holding Christopher to her. Their lips met passionately, as they both sought comfort in the other. Valentine rose up, kissing Christopher all the while, their lips feasting on each other. How she wanted him right then, how she always wanted him…after all these years. Christopher paused for a moment, trying to bring sanity into the situation.

“My dove…you must face this. Alexander and Daniel have already signed up. They must report in a week’s time.” It was a douche of cold water on Valentine.

“A week….that’s all?” Valentine whispered as she bowed her head slightly.

“Yes. They will not be deterred.” Christopher whispered to Valentine as he stroked her wrists and arms lovingly that were braced on each of his shoulders. So little time.

oOo

One week later….everyone at Groby was standing outside on the gravel driveway in front of the grand house. A hired car would take Alexander and Daniel to the train station where they would travel to Dover for training and their final assignment.

Valentine and Christopher stood off to the side as the children said their goodbyes. Willomena Davenport was waiting nearby, as well as several other girls from the local village…undoubtedly some of Alexander’s conquests. Valentine’s eyebrow arched up questioningly to Christopher, who smiled and feigned ignorance. They watched as the girls all fluttered about Alexander and Daniel, but it was sad to see Willomena’s tearful gaze as she said goodbye to Daniel.

“You will write me, yeah?” Willomena whispered.

“Every day.” Daniel promised as he kissed her cheek reverently. “Don’t forget me, okay?”

“I’ll never forget you, Daniel. Promise.”

“That’s my girl.” Daniel smiled.

“That’s right. I’m your girl. And don’t you forget that, solider boy.” Willomena poked at Daniel playfully.

“Got to go. I don’t think my mum can wait another moment.” Daniel stated apologetically, glancing at his mother as she wrung her hands nervously. Willomena nodded sweetly, letting go of Daniel’s hands. The other girls, all waving happily to Alexander, started to walk away together, with Willomena walking solemnly by herself behind them. She glanced back once with a wistful expression, but turned and continued walking.

Daniel and Alexander walked towards their parents. Both had their newsboy caps in their hands. Valentine gazed at them both, drinking in the sight of her sons. Christopher, his arm looped casually around Valentine’s side, watched with the appreciation of a proud, but anxious, father.

“Father. We will contact you as soon as we know where we are going. After training. Hopefully….” Alexander for once in his life sounded nervous. Christopher could not help but be happy that his brash Alexander was a bit nervous, perhaps it will keep him safer.

“Good luck, Alexander, Daniel.” Christopher shook both Alexander’s and Daniel’s hands.

“For England.” Alexander replied proudly, to which Christopher only nodded. Christopher looked down at Valentine, who was putting on a brave face given the worried state of the handkerchief in her grasp as she watched her son’s say goodbye to their father.

“Take care of each other. Know that we, your father and I, are so proud of you both.” Valentine spoke a bit breathlessly like she was trying to control her emotions, her voice trembling as she spoke. Each son carefully stepped forward and embraced their mother fiercely. As each of them attempted to pull away, Christopher noted that Valentine would softly whimper, “no, not yet” and hold on a bit longer, which brought a loving smile to his son’s faces. Daniel kissed his mother’s cheek softly.

“I love you, mum. And…” Valentine shushed Daniel with a gentle touch to silence lips.

“Tell me when you get back.” Valentine stated a soft, loving, falsely brave smile on her flushed face. Christopher moved closer, returning his arm around Valentine’s waist. Daniel smiled and nodded meaningfully. They walked to the car, both of them looking back over their shoulders to their amazing parents. Clambering into the car, they looked out the window as it started to pull away. Christopher, his arm around his wife, raised his arm in acknowledgement. Valentine was silent as the car pulled away. As the car passed through the gates of Groby, Valentine turned towards Christopher, burying her face in his shoulder.

“My babies….” Valentine sobbed. Christopher held Valentine in her arms, stroking the back of her head and shoulders in reassurance.

“They’ll be back, Valentine. They’ll be back.” Christopher whispered almost prayer like. He was not sure if he was trying to convince his wife or himself or both. Only time would tell if their family would be whole again someday.


	23. A Shared Secret

Valentine walked into the bedroom she shared with Christopher wrapped in her robe, having returned from saying goodnight to all the children. Christopher was already in bed, reading the paper. It had been a torturous day.

Alexander and Daniel had left that morning, off to the war. Valentine had been so distraught immediately after their departure, Christopher had ushered her into the house, and just held her in his arms as they sat on the sofa in his study. It was all he could do for her. But soon, emotionally spent, Valentine calmed. Christopher kissed her softly, sweetly, repeatedly, just trying to reassure her that he was there for her.

“I suppose we have some things to be thankful for.” Valentine stated laughingly, hiccupping softly between laughs and sobs.

“We have much to be thankful for, my dove. But I would love to hear it from you.” Christopher softly whispered encouragingly, stroking his wife’s tear-stained cheek.

“At least we won’t have to see any more of our children off to war.” Valentine smiled weakly, then back to her lap. Christopher understood what Valentine was trying to say. The twins, Thomas and Edward, were only 13 now, and the rest of their children were girls, so as long as the war was over within five years, this would be the last time they would have to see any of their children in harm’s way. There was still a risk Michael could be called up, but it was unlikely, and he was far enough away. Christopher kissed Valentine’s forehead, smiling.

“Yes.” Christopher swallowed with emotion as he continued to speak, “Valentine, you have given me so many beautiful children. They are all a dream. I wanted to be sure I told you how lucky I know I am to have you and them in my life.”

“Oh, Christopher. Promise me you’ll never leave my side. Not until that day the good Lord takes you from me. And then, I promise you I will follow to the afterlife, because I do not think I could bare living without you in my life.” Valentine sobbed a bit, as Christopher pulled her fiercely into his arms, his own body shaking in response to her earnest, heartbreaking words.

“Do not speak of such things, Valentine. It pains me to even consider us parted from each other so permanently.” Christopher sobbed into Valentine’s shoulder, brushing a soft kiss there. Valentine stroked the back of Christopher’s head gently, her fingers running through his soft hair to his nape.

“Make love to me, Christopher.” Valentine whispered into Christopher’s ear. There was a stillness in Christopher’s body, but he did not pull away.

“Here? Now? What if…” Christopher started to speak if one of the children came into the study. Valentine leaned back on the high-back, leather-quilted sofa, her body beckoning Christopher to join with her.

“If one the children come in, they will only see the beauty of lovers…” Valentine whispered as she pulled at Christopher’s suit jacket and bringing her lips to Christopher’s. As she slanted her lips this way and that, she was the seducer. Christopher moaned softly, making quick work of his jacket and tie. Valentine smiled as Christopher passionately grasped her face in his long-fingered hands as their tongues mated in frantically. It had been some time since the last time they had enjoyed each other’s passion. Now, in comfort, they needed each other more than ever.

Valentine hastily unbuttoned Christopher’s shirt, but did not remove it. It hung open along his strong chest. Even at 56, the amount of physical labor he engaged in around Groby, allowed him to stay in excellent physical form. Valentine unbuckled Christopher’s leather belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers with a quickness that surprised even Christopher. Valentine ran her hand down into Christopher’s pants, grasping his hardness in her soft palm. Christopher gasped at the feeling of Valentine’s warm hand wrapped around him.

This action spurred Christopher into an even more ardent response. Christopher roughly pulled the cardigan Valentine wore from her shoulders, throwing it to the floor. She had a light cotton dress with wide straps, which Christopher proceeded to pull down along with her camisole she worn underneath, exposing her breasts to the daylight. Christopher immediately laved each breast with his mouth, Valentine arching her back in astonishment. Quickly, Christopher positioned himself between Valentine’s legs, seating himself in the apex of her thighs. Her dress was gathered around her hips, her knickers the only barrier from what they both wanted, needed. Christopher moved his hands under Valentine’s dress, pulling her offending barrier down her hips and off her body.

Christopher re-positioned himself, pressing into Valentine’s heated core. Valentine moaned as she felt him enter her. Christopher pulled himself closer, groaning in reaction to their bodies coming together. Valentine moved her hips, meeting Christopher’s thrusts as they made love on the sofa, Valentine’s hand braced on high back of the leather sofa for leverage. Christopher sat up so he was kneeling between Valentine’s legs, her body tilted upward as he continued to move into her body. Valentine gazed in such love at him, it made him whimper and immediately want to press his whole body against her soft one. Christopher thrusts grew more urgent, and Valentine’s response more demanding. Christopher braced one foot on the floor as he continued to ravish his lover of over twenty years like it was just their first time together. The coil wrapped so tightly inside them both finally sprang free, the both of them panting for breathe as they rejoiced at the tiny shivers and quivers of their singular, joint orgasm.

It was that moment that Valentine remembered as she entered the shared bedroom, Christopher’s eyes following her from over the newspaper and the spectacles perched on his nose. Valentine smiled at her husband, biting her lip shyly as she entered the en-suite bath room. Christopher chuckled softly as the door shut.

Valentine re-entered the bedroom a few moments later, climbing into the bed and cuddling against Christopher, who kissed her head tenderly.

“What ghastly news are you reading about now?” Valentine asked as she noticed all the headlines seemed to speak of war.

“Seems the government is searching for suitable locations in order to evacuate children out of London.” Christopher stated solemnly. Valentine’s head turned, looking at her husband.

“Is there a concern of an attack? On London itself?” Valentine asked breathlessly.

“It’s just a precaution, my dove. Although it would seem logical that if the Nazis were to attempt an attack, London would be the best tactical place to start.” Christopher showed Valentine the newspaper. “See here. Read the article.” Christopher removed his spectacles and placed them on the nightstand light as Valentine continued to read.

“We have to do it, Christopher. We should offer Groby as a place for them to come.” Valentine stated adamantly. When Christopher had read the article earlier in the day, he knew Valentine would be in favor of opening Groby as a suitable location. Christopher smiled knowingly as he turned the lamp off and removing the paper from Valentine grasp, pulling her gently into his arms.

“I knew you would agree. I’ve already notified the ombudsman in London that we can take 10 children immediately, and perhaps more once we have the logistics down.”

“Ten children?!” Valentine exclaimed.

“What? Too many?” Christopher asked questioningly.

“No, too few.” Valentine whispered as she slept close and safe to Christopher and her children. Christopher smiled as he lifted the hand Valentine laid on his chest to his lips.

oOo

Alexander and Daniel were received at Dover without issue and had immediately be able to call their parents to tell them they were safe. 8 weeks of training, then they would be assigned to a unit.

It would be several weeks until any children would arrive from London, so Valentine began preparing the house of a slew of new people. Hannah, Thomas, Edward, Emma, and Zoe were all genuinely excited about the prospect of other children coming to Groby. Groby was stripped down, the windows blocked out with heavy black fabric to prevent light from escaping at night. The government had warned that any light could grant the enemy a place to target. Ration cards were issued, however Groby was mostly self-sufficient, the government had demanded that any extra provisions be surrendered.

17-year old Isabel was uncharacteristically quiet since her elder brothers’ departure. A fact that did not go unnoticed by her father. It was late one evening, well past midnight, that Christopher, unable to sleep, walked into the family room area to find Isabel reading a pamphlet of some sort before the fire, a cup of tea on the side table. Christopher paused when he saw his lovely daughter. She was so loyal to her family, lovely like her mother. She had a fair coloring like himself and his eyes. It was bemusing when she was younger gazing into his own eyes. In his mind’s eye he saw his little Isabel as he twirled her around and around when she was only five year old. Her precious nature, learning to read early. He wondered if he should leave without disturbing her. But his heart told him she was suffering, she needed…something, someone.

Christopher cleared his throat softly, shuffling his feet to announce his presence. He watched as his noise startled Isabel, as she shoved the pamphlet under her legs guiltily. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes widened in surprise to see her father standing there in his robe.

“It’s late, Isabel.” Christopher commented lightly. She wasn’t a child any more, but it was the easiest path to start the conversation. Isabel reached for her tea cup and saucer.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I would have some tea.” Christopher watched as she took a sip and grimaced at it the no doubt cold temperature. Christopher moved to sideboard, picking up the whiskey decanter, pouring two fingers of whiskey into the crystal tumbler nearby. He glanced up at his daughter, questioningly.

“Would you like one as well?”

“I….ummm…I…aaaa…yes, please.” Isabel stammered at her father’s question. He had never offered in the past.

“Don’t tell your mother.” Christopher stated as he poured another glass of whiskey for his eldest daughter, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He picked up both glasses and walked to the settee where Isabel sat with her legs tucked under her. Isabel smiled as she took the proffered glass from her father.

“You may find this is a much better sedative than tea.” Christopher sat next to Isabel, taking a swig from the crystal tumbler. Isabel cautiously brought the pungent liquor to her lips, taking a small sip. It burned down her throat, but was smooth, and had a wood-smoke taste to it. She now marveled at her father’s and brother’s ability to drink copious amounts of the stuff.

They sat in silence, each taking sips of their whiskey, a shared secret.

“What were you reading about?” Christopher asked casually. Isabel’s eyes grew wide with shock. She had thought she had been quick enough for him to not see she had been reading something.

“It’s nothing. Just a pamphlet I picked up at…in town.” Isabel corrected and lied. She had gotten the pamphlet at a woman’s rally to recruit young women to join the Women's Voluntary Service. Christopher was unconvinced and knew Isabel too well to know she was pondering something. Isabel possessed a keen intellect, one he hoped could be put to good use given the realities of society and what a woman was allowed to attempt.

“Isabel, tell me what is going through that smart brain of yours? You have been too melancholy of late and I know your brothers’ departure was difficult, on all of us, but…”

“I am considering joining the Women's Voluntary Service…in London.” Isabel stated, interrupting Christopher. Isabel took a deep breath as she watched her father’s face. Christopher downed the remainder of his whiskey. Not a good sign, Isabel thought. Christopher placed the tumbler on the side table and sighed deeply.

“You know…that if you join WVS, you may be put in harm’s way.” Christopher looked at Isabel directly. “London would be the first place the Nazis would look to strafe if it comes to that.”

“I know. But…everyone…they are going off and having adventures…and…and I don’t want to just sit back and do nothing.” Isabel rambled quickly her eyes pleading to her father.

“War is not an adventure, Isabel.” Christopher stated gravely.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Isabel sighed, looking down and picking at the fabric of her robe. Christopher moved closer, taking his daughter’s hand gently. Isabel glanced up at her father, seeing the concern in his face.

“You are my angel, Isabel. I could not bear it if you were taken from me so soon.”

“That could happen even without a war, Papa.” Isabel reminded Christopher, using the endearment she used when she was very young. “I can help. I’ve heard of this place called Bletchley Park. You said I had a keen mind. Why should I just sit about letting it go to waste?”

Christopher nodded in acknowledgement, she had a good argument, he thought. He had heard about the place she mentioned. It was true she could perhaps help. Oh but Valentine would be destroyed, Christopher thought. Isabel reached under her and pulled the crumbled pamphlet from under her legs.

“Here this is the pamphlet I was reading.” Isabel handed it to Christopher. He scanned the paper. It was propaganda, nothing else. It spoke to patriotic duty, but nothing about the realities of wartime. Christopher did not have to read it. He had seen them before, long ago. He handed the paper back to Isabel.

“I know Mother will be upset. Is that what concerns you most?”

“That does concern me. But the thought that I will have three of my precious children in harm’s way is equally if not more troubling.”

“I won’t be in harm’s way. Nothing has happened and nothing will happen. Not if my two ridiculous brothers have anything to do about it.” Isabel stated jokingly. Christopher chuckled softly at Isabel’s jest, but it did not go to his heart.

Two weeks later Isabel was gone. Christopher thought Valentine was going to expire from the reality of it all. But in war there was little time to think about potential sorrows before they happened. Except at night, when in her sleep Valentine would cry out as she would live and re-live her worst nightmare of three coffins lined up before her as they were placed in the family cemetery in Groby.

Four months later the Blitz of London began. Over the next 267 days, London was attacked by the Luftwaffe 71 times. And on September 9, 1940 London sustained 57 consecutive nights of bombing. There was no way to contact Isabel, Alexander, or Daniel. However on November 17rd, a letter arrived at Groby from Isabel dated November 3rd telling Christopher and Valentine she was safe….and married.

Valentine fainted, only narrowly not hitting the floor, as Christopher caught her in his arms.

 


	24. A Series of Letters

_May 1, 1940_

_Dear Father,_

_Arrived safely somewhere in Belgium. When this messed up world settles down I will be able to tell you in the fullest detail the episodes of my travels._

_Our trip over was very quiet and uneventful.  Although one of the other companies had a lot of excitement. (Torpedoes)_

_… From what I have seen of these cities or in fact any of the places where I have been I am left with the feeling of appreciation that I come from the England … I am writing this letter from our new camp, which is located on the side of a hill overlooking a large vineyard grove._

_We just received the good news that a portion of the Nazi campaign has come to an unsuccessful conclusion. Perhaps this war will be over sooner rather than later._

_Daniel and I were in town this afternoon where we enjoyed a few beers in a beer garden located on the sidewalk. Nothing like English beer, but it was acceptable._

_I do hope the family is doing well. Mother advises me that you are taking in children from London. Groby will be a wonderful place for them to escape the tragedy that is unfolding. You and mother always made Groby a magical place. I envy those children right now._

_I will close hoping I receive a letter from you soon._

_All my love,_

_Alexander_

_May 1, 1940_

_Dear Mina,_

_Nothing much new and also it is quite late so as usual a short letter to say hello and to let you know how much I love you._

_At present I am listening to the radio to soft jazz music,  guess I forgot to tell you that we now have a radio. It is an Italian job, we bought it from a local. He is going home so we took it off his hands. Spent a very busy day. Can’t remember doing a thing but I guess I did manage to stay on my feet._

_Well sweetheart I must say goodnight for now and a million kisses. Write often sweet. I love so much to get your letters and I haven’t had any for three days. I love you darling with all my heart, body and soul._

_Forever & Always,_

_Daniel_

_May 20, 1940_

_My Dearest Daniel,_

_As I sit here tonight writing I am thinking of you very much and am wondering what you are doing tonight. It is now ten after seven with the tea kettle simmering away on the stove and I am trying to think of something different to tell you._

_It was quite cold here this morning but the day turned out to be real nice. Wish I could see you. What I wouldn't do to you tonight._

_I guess they keep you busy all right, don't they? I went to the movies last night. I am still working in the shop. There is a little more than what there was. I am fine and am glad you are also. It seems good to hear from you so often Daniel. When I don't get a letter I miss them very much. My letters must be held up somewhere because I have written right along. Last week I wrote three. This week I have slipped up I admit but will try to do better next._

_I haven't been much of anywhere so can't tell you an awful lot of news dear. There doesn't seem to be much going on and I have been in the cottage most of the time except when I go to the movies. All the folks send their regards and want to be remembered to you._

_Well dear guess I had better dash off now hoping to hear from you soon._

_Lots of love,_

_Mina_

_November 3, 1940_

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_Just yesterday I wrote you a letter but your air mail of Oct 30th and V-mail of Nov 1st came this morning so will answer them today. I got up for breakfast this morning and made a dashing trip with our mail man to another town to have my picture taken for my Identification card. I have been without a bit of Identification since the bombing—it is as if I’m almost not in this army. It has sort of worried me too—because something could have happened & no one know who I belong to. _

_I do not know if this will pass the censor but will try & tell you what happened the evening of the 30th October. It was early evening, several bombs just missed us several times but we didn't really realize what it was all about. Evening came and the air raid sirens started up. We had to abandon our building since it was very badly damaged. We evacuated to the bombing shelter underneath a nearby building, barely a hole in the ground, but it was safer than being on the surface. _

_At 5:10 we heard a plane and then that bad awful whistle a bomb makes then there was a terribly loud bang!—You will never know of the thousand things that flashed through my mind those few seconds. I thought sure I was dying—could feel hot air blowing past by body— heavy boards fell on my chest from the ceiling—I shut my eyes and thought it was the end—then the next second I realized I wasn’t dead. I couldn't see for the terrific smoke in the room. All the bruises I got out of it was a scratch on my knee, a cut on my left foot and scratches on my chest where debris fell from the roof._

_But I am alive, and I miss you, father, and my siblings terribly. You and father were so right about war….perhaps I have made a terrible mistake coming here thinking I could change things. Maybe someday I'll tell you more about it…._

_I should also inform you that I was married a few days ago._

_Isabel_

_November 7, 1940_

_Dear Mother,_

_I thought my last letter seemed a bit grim after I had sent it in the post. So I thought it best to send you another letter to assure I am whole and fine. I can just imagine Father was about to lose his mind and come to fetch me from this horrible place straight away after receiving such a letter from me. It must have given you both something of a fright._

_I only had a few moments to pen the letter in the aftermath of that night and it was composed in the heat of the moment. But I wanted to tell you of some other things that have happened in my life. And I suppose I should explain my commentary of “being married.”_

_He is a kind and generous young man who was injured during one of the bombings. His name is George, he is 24 years old, a captain the RAF. He had been convalescing at one of the local bomb shelters. He is quite funny, easy-going, even in the most horrible of circumstances. He was born in Cardiff, his parents are both textile merchants. He went to university at Manchester for engineering. He is quite smart…he reminds me of father in that way. Oh mother, we can talk for hours about all sorts of subjects. He seems genuinely unfazed at the fact I am able to discuss such topics as mathematics and physics. He is go generous and thoughtful. I think I am in love with him._

_He was just about fully healed when October 30th came. He saved my life. He risked his life to save me. Yes, I do love him, Mother. He is set to be sent to an overseas assignment in a few days. My heart aches at the idea of being parted from him. I often think that this is what is must have been like for you with Father during the Great War. How did you get through it?_

_I know you both must be sorely disappointed in my seemingly rash decision to marry George. I do hope that you will welcome us both to Groby once this monstrous war is over._

_Your loving daughter,_


	25. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi there everyone! I know its been a LONG TIME. However, here is the latest chapter. I never imagined how much work this would be, and of course I want it to be good. So I would rather it be good than put out a bunch of crap just to keep things moving. Hence my dilemma.
> 
> Anyway, this was a hard one to write. But I think it is really moving. I hope you all like it too. I am jumping about here between the letters chapters, so I hope it is not too confusing time-wise. The Blitz hasn't happened yet...so this is basically May 1940 to Sept 1940. 
> 
> Keep review and giving feedback. I appreciate it!

August 1940

Valentine was appalled. The 15 young children filed out of the depot truck like frightened lambs to the slaughter. Christopher was no less sickened by the ghastly sight they presented. So many of them were clearly underfed, lacked sufficient clothing, and were in desperate need of a sound scrubbing.

The children looked wondrously and cautiously at the sky. Valentine wondered if they were cautiously looking for the bombers they had gotten so used to flight overhead. But there was nothing but silence. The rabble of children consisted of 7 girls and 8 boys. Each of them had a cautious look upon their faces as the queued up automatically after weeks of shuffling hither and yon. Several of the girls held hands, and Valentine wondered if they may be sisters or cousins. Valentine, standing close to her husband, shuttered and gripped Christopher’s forearm tightly at the thought of children being parted from not only their parents but too also be separated from their brothers and sisters, and sent to a strange place after all that had happened. Christopher felt Valentine’s soft shutter, and softly placed his warm, large hand over the ones gripping his always proffered arm.

Christopher watched as each child filed by, led by the matronly sister of St. Mary’s Church. The rooms had been prepared long ago for the impending arrival of these poor creatures. Christopher’s face must have shown his displeasure at the sight of the children. Valentine spoke softly to him as the last of the children walked by into the stately home of Earl of Groby.

“It will be alright, darling. They will be alright.” Valentine spoke to Christopher as she stroked his arms and clasped his hand reassuringly. Christopher looked down at their clasped hands and nodded.

“They are safe here….at Groby.” Valentine continued softly, seeing Christopher’s concern.

“Safe? I dare to wonder in this war if anyone is safe, my dove.” Christopher spoke with a ghostly look in his eyes, as if he was remembering something awful from long past. Valentine, who dared not intrude on what was in his mind’s eye, stroked his hair softly, as she did many, many times over the years when Christopher would awaken from a nightmare. He would clutch the bedclothes desperately, sweat pouring off his brow. Christopher’s memories of the Great War intruded into their lives more and more as this new war waged. Valentine knew it was only natural, given that now they had three children engaged in this awful conflict.

Valentine often lamented that they had not heard from Alex, Daniel, or Isabel in quite a long time. Isabel had been a more prolific writer than the boys. Last communication was a miraculous and wondrous phone call from Isabel in June. The entire family had huddled around Christopher’s desk each trying to listen and each taking turns to talk with Isabel. In the end, the children were shuffled out and Christopher was left alone to speak with his eldest daughter. When Valentine returned a few moments later, Christopher’s face was crumbled in sadness, tears leaking from his face, as he silently listened. Valentine watched as Christopher valiantly responded to his daughter without too much of his distraught state coming through his voice. Tears welled up in Valentine’s eyes as she watched.

“Yes. Yes…We miss you as well…Yes, I will pass it along…Please…do keep yourself safe, Isabel…Yes, of course…I love you, good-bye.” At the last words, Christopher proceeded to fall to pieces at his desk, sobbing uncontrollably, his shoulders hunched and shaking with emotion, the phone receiver hanging limply from his hand. Valentine walked to his side, gently took the receiver gently from Christopher’s hand and allowed him sob, lightly holding him about the shoulders, softly whispering sweet words into his ear as his emotions were spent. A very few occasions did Christopher Tietjens express outward emotion, but Valentine always knew…she always knew.

oOo

A full week went by as the new children settled into their new world. Christopher took the boys to the stables and around the grounds to assist in helping with the care and maintenance of the livestock. The Tietjens twins, Thomas and Edward, also accompanied the group.

“Slave labor, what is what we are.” One of the boys, Henry, about 12 years old, with a heavy cockney accent commented as they mucked out one of the livestock stalls. He had an attitude since arriving and was one of the oldest of the children to arrive. Another boy, about 10, named Alfred, snorted at Henry’s complaining.

“Yeah well, at least we get three squares a day an' warm bed at night.” Alfred responded as he worked. “Ye wouldn’t be ge'ing’ what back 'ome I reckon.”

“Besides 'is lordship’s boys are workin' just da same.” Alfred pointed out, nodding toward where Thomas and Edward were working together on another stall a short distance away. Henry watched as the boys seemed happy to be working, throwing hay and such at each other as they worked, laughing. Henry’s mouth set in a grim line _. They shouldn’t be that happy, there’s a war going on_ , Henry thought. _They hadn’t seen what was really going on. They had been protected up here, in this…paradise…protected by that stern bastard, ‘is lordship Tietjens_. Henry had heard stories about Tietjens. About him and his lady. Henry had taken great pleasure in regaling the other boys, and some of the older girls, the sorted details of what had heard on their trip to Groby.

“Aye! And they say what Tietjens was married when 'e an' allk up wiv 'is mistress. A suffrage'e no less! Say they 'ad a torrid affair in London. Got a baby on 'er straight away.” Henry stated in a hushed whisper to the others.

“How romantic.” One of the older girls stated dreamily. Henry just scoffed at her.

“And then, Tietjens quite ruthlessly came ter Groby an' cut da froat ov 'is wife so 'e could marry 'is whore. To 'ide da evidence ov 'is crime 'e 'alf burn' da place down an' all!” Henry made a slashing motion across his neck for emphasis and to the shock of the others, who listened with rapt attention.

“So kiddies that’s where we are going. So be'er mind yaaahrselves awer may suffer da same fate.”

“I heard as well that half of the children were born on the wrong side of sheets. But because Tietjens in a lord, they don’t dare call them bastards.” One girl responded, Henry smirking as he listened to the gossip he had stirred up.

“I heard his first wife was very beautiful. And she had many lovers and it drove Mr. Tietjens mad. That’s why he really cut her throat.”

On and on it went prior to their arrival at Groby. Henry heard things had never heard before, some in defense of Tietjens, some not.

Henry continued to jab and stir the dirty hay out of the stall, remembering. He had three brothers in the war, fighting. One of them was only sixteen when he joined up, lied about his age to join up. Henry thought he could lie as well. He was a brawn lad for 12 years old, almost 6 foot tall. But the recruiters had laughed at his protestations of his older age.

“Come back yer wee mongrel when you have hair one between yer legs!” shouted the enlisted man who shoved Henry onto the street.

“But I want to fight!” Henry screamed back as he lay on his backside on the street where he fell, his voice cracking as she did. The enlisted man smirked and pointed at Henry.

“Go home to yer family! War is for men, not for wee pups lookin’ to die!” With that the enlisted man turned and marched back in. Henry laying on the street, his chin quivered with checked emotion at the soldier’s dismissal. _I don’t have a family anymore_ , Henry thought as tears leaked from his eyes down his face.

The memories of that moment must have showed on Henry’s face, as it caught the attention of the man he was just cursing a few minutes ago.

“Something the matter, Henry?” Christopher asked softly, standing an arm’s length away from Henry. Henry, shocked by Christopher’s silent arrival, jumped in surprise, turning to face the man in question.

“No, sir.” Henry replied, his eyes blinking rapidly to hide the unshed tears, standing almost at attention of a solider. Christopher smirked, having heard the commentary by Henry, but his smirk faded as he saw the unshed tears.

“Come, Henry. Let’s take a walk.” Christopher gestured towards the barn door, standing aside so Henry could walk out of the stall. Henry set aside the pitchfork, and walked calmly by, his head high and shoulder’s square. Thomas and Edward watched as their father followed the boy. They knew how their father handled things, and they smiled. They had heard the grumblings from Henry from the very start. Their father was not one to stifle self-expression, but he did abide outright insurrection. With a brood of nine children, Christopher Tietjens was a master of order.

Henry and Christopher walked silently down the path for some time. Christopher would allow Henry to speak first, and Christopher could walk for miles if need be. Henry walked stoically, and Christopher saw the signs of a firm resolve and stubborn attitude. _Results of a harsh life_ , Christopher thought as he glanced sidelong at Henry. There had been several issues since Henry’s arrival, mostly stirring up gossip about himself. Christopher planned to end that gossip today as to cause no further upset to his household.

They walked and walked, farther and farther away from the main house at Groby. Finally, Henry spoke.

“Are yew gon'a bugger me, sir?” Henry asked directly, causing Christopher to pause in his stride.

“Certainly not.” Christopher responded with distain. “What on earth gave you that notion?”

“ell, in da city, I’ve been approached by men, some ov 'em upper class, who claim they 'ave work fer me. But they take me far in'er one ov da parks…and well, they 'ry.” Henry looked down shamefully, absently kicking stones from the gravel walk to and fro.

_A very harsh life_ , Christopher corrected in his assessment of the lad.

“I see. Well, I can assure you that is not the case here at Groby.” Christopher smiled softly, chuckling, and continued. “I should think the evidence of my nine children and my lovely wife should assuage any concerns you might have.”

“Aye, I suppose.” Henry looked up abashedly. “I apologize fer fnking…or inferrin' yew were...yaaahr wife is very bonny.” Henry stumbled over his apology. Christopher started to walk again.

“Tell me about your family, Henry?”

“Not much ter tell. My parents are bof dead as doornails. And me eldest bruvvers, Herbert, Marvin, an' Roy, well, they’re all fightin' in da war now.”

“And where were you living prior to coming here?”

“On da street, sir. But i' wasn't so bad. Not alot ov rules, but yew 'ad ter fight a bit.” Henry paused, thinking about his life back in London. “I 'ad a rabble ov boys who, well we 'elped each uvver, yew know, ter survive.”

Christopher could well speculate on what young Henry’s life was like. He had seen boys like him, the packs of boys that roamed the London streets when he and Valentine still lived there. He remembered the look on Valentine’s face when she would see them. Some of them so young, less than 5 years old, running about in the dangerous streets. She had saved quite a few of them from carriage wheels and motorcars on several occasions.

“Henry, I can see you are very much used to the notion that you make the rules, having had your own battalion of men to command in the past,” Christopher spoke with a gentle, but clipped fashion, the way he spoke when he was a military man. Henry seemed surprised at the respectful tone Christopher spoke to him.

“I, too, have commanded men in times of great peril.” Christopher spoke as he glanced off into the landscape, his gaze seemingly peering into a long ago past.

“Were yew in da Great War, sir?” Henry asked almost wondrously.

“Yes. And now I am too old to fight once again, just as you are too young. We are both helplessly trapped as we watch our loved ones go off to an uncertain future.” Christopher spoke earnestly, thinking of Alexander, Daniel, and lovely Isabel.

“I don’t know which is worse, sir. I 'urts me gullet every time I fnk ov me bruvvers so far away. Maybe they won’t come back.” Henry spoke emotionally.

“I understand, Henry. Truly, I do. I have three precious children in the war as well. Alexander, Daniel, and Isabel.”

“A girl? Blimey, yew let yaaahr daughter go….I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean ter imply…..” Henry stammered. Christopher patted Henry’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Ah, well, Henry. My Isabel is quite strong-minded and resolute when she has decided to do something. Quite like her mother, actually.” Christopher commented, smiling as he made the comparison. “It pains my heart to think of her, so close to danger. But alas, she is of her own mind, and wild horses could not keep her from her goal I would imagine.”

“Well, sir, fngs are pret'y quiet in London right now. So I am sure she is well.” Henry spoke trying to assuage his benefactor’s concerns.

“Thank you, Henry.” Christopher responded. Henry and Christopher walked back, to the paddock to where the other boys had continued their work, a new found respect established. _Strange_ , Henry thought, _how he had misjudged his lordship so greatly_.

oOo

The day arrived like any other. Mouths to be fed, bodies to be washed, mending to be done, clothes to be cleaned, the labors of a fully functioning estate to be completed again, as they were done each day.

Valentine had taken up with helping in the kitchens. With so many hungry mouths to feed now, it was a much larger chore than ever before. Plus, the kitchen conversation was always a welcome distraction.

“Where is Mrs. Beauchamp? Is she ill?” Valentine inquired concern as she entered the kitchen, noting the head cook’s absence. Mrs. Beauchamp hadn’t missed a day of work in almost 15 years at Groby, so her absence was striking to Valentine. Maddie came around the worktable, ushering Valentine back into the hall.

“Mrs. Beauchamp received word yesterday that her son was killed.” Maddie whispered, a gasp escaping Valentine’s throat as she covered her mouth in shock.

“When? When was he killed? What happened?” Valentine asked urgently.

“I don’t ken all the details, ma’am. But I know he was killed at Dunkirk, during the allied evacuation.”

Valentine worked the dates back in her head. Almost three months since the failed Battle of Dunkirk. Valentine remembered listening to the radio a few hours after the battle was essentially over, and the grave reports of lost men.

Late that evening, Valentine sat in Christopher’s office settee, absently toying with tie of her blouse, crystal glass filled with whiskey being held precariously on her hip as she pondered. Christopher glanced up several times watching his pensive wife. _Something had happened,_ he thought.

“Three months.” Valentine spoke softly. Christopher looked up again.

“What was that, my dove?” Christopher inquired over the rim of his spectacles.

“Three months it took for the British government to inform Mrs. Beauchamp that her son was killed at Dunkirk.” Valentine spoke breathlessly, never looking away from the fire. Christopher sat back slowly, realizing the issue. Removing his spectacles and rising from his chair, he walked to Valentine. He stood behind the settee silently, placing a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“For three months she believed he was alive and well. Fighting for God and country.” Valentine took a sip of liquid courage to continue her thoughts.

“I always believed a mother would know when her child is gone from this world. No matter how far the distance. She would know. She would feel it.”

Christopher lightly squeezed Valentine’s shoulder in silent acknowledgement. Then lightly stroking her shoulder and neck with his fingertips. Valentine closed her eyes, reveling in her husband’s touch, leaning her head back to receive it more fully.

“But perhaps, Mrs. Beauchamp did feel something, but had no notion as to what it was. Had no basis to compare it to. Perhaps she did not recognize it.” Valentine spoke seriously. Christopher moved around the settee slowly and sat next to Valentine. Valentine honest and fearful gaze told him what she was thinking, but Valentine voiced it nonetheless.

“What if I don’t recognize that feeling either?” Valentine whispered in desperate tone. Christopher took Valentine’s hand and kissed it sweetly.

“You should not think that way. To curse the fact that we have never lost a child, and therefore have no frame of reference in which to identify that terrible feeling. It is a blessing, to be sure.” Christopher reminded Valentine.

“But, what if…even now…one of them…” Valentine spoke through gasping breaths as she voiced her fears to her lover, her partner, her soul mate. Christopher immediately hushed her softly, stroking her hair from her cheek and around her ear. Finally, Valentine collapsed into Christopher’s arms, lying across his legs, against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around her. She savored the warmth of his body and the strength it possessed.

“Everything will be okay.” Christopher whispered into Valentine’s hair, holding her firmly to his heart so she could hear its steady thumping in her ear as she lay in his arms.

oOo

Hannah saw the depot truck coming up from far up the road towards Groby. Military green with black lettering were seldom and hard to miss in this part of England. Hannah swopped up from her place under the tree, leaving the book she was reading behind, and ran swiftly towards the house.

“Mother! Mother!” Hannah shouted as she entered the front entryway of Groby. Hannah continued to run towards the kitchens, meeting her wide-eyed mother, who was wiping her hands on a flannel.

“Hannah, why in heaven’s name are you shouting so? My dear, you look a fright!” Valentine states as she peered at young Hannah, perched on cusp of womanhood but still had the rambunctious of a child, with her wild hair and rosy cheeks from her hasty run.

“I saw a truck, a military truck, coming up the drive.” Hannah stated breathless, trying to catch her breath. Valentine peered over Hannah’s shoulder at the still open door to the front drive. She watched with a mixture of joy and horror as the truck in question turned onto the main drive towards the front entrance of Groby.

Calmly, Valentine looked down at her flour-covered hands and apron. Mrs. Beauchamp appeared at her side in almost wrath-like fashion. Valentine looked at her. Valentine slowly untied the apron from around her waist, handing it and the flannel gently to Mrs. Beauchamp. Maddie arrived as well, looking expectantly. Valentine looked up at the open doorway. The vehicle had stopped, ominously framed in the doorway of the Tietjens home.

“Please inform Mr. Tietjens we have visitors.” Valentine spoke quietly to Maddie, to everyone. “Hannah, stay here.”

Valentine felt almost disembodied as she walked the long hallway of the great hall of Groby. The portraits of so many ancestors peering down at her as she walked. She never felt comfortable in this room. The pictures almost looked reproachfully at her, as if she did not belong, and perhaps she did not, she would often muse. But now, all she wished for is for their strength to face what was to come. The distance stretched in almost a tunnel. Valentine’s world was about to change, she knew it in her soul.

She reached the threshold of the door, her hand clutching the door frame. Valentine prayed that the stones of Groby would keep her erect, give her the will to not falter in her resolve to endure what was to come. The truck doors opened and two severe looking military officers exited. Their faces were blank, unfeeling. Valentine started to tremble, she knew that look. These men had done this a thousand, a million times before. Valentine gripped the door frame harder, her short nails leaving small curved indents on the painted wood. Valentine waited, but the officers did not move. _Why do they wait?_ Valentine wondered, _why do they torture me?_

The officers looked away towards the back of the truck, at a thud that sounded very far off to Valentine. Valentine’s eyes moved to where the sound came from. Slowly as if time stood still, Valentine watched as Daniel exited the back of the truck. The breath inside Valentine escaped with rush at the sight of her son. Tears of joy overflowed from her eyes as her son, clearly wounded but whole, looked at her solemnly. More movement came from the back of the truck, Valentine stood atop her toes to see her other son emerge, a smile upon her face. Valentine’s smile faded as she watched Daniel turn to assist the wooden box being removed from the back of the truck. Valentine realized in that moment who it was.

“Alexander.” Valentine whispered, her hand over her heart to keep it from bursting from her chest it was pounding so hard. She didn’t realize she begun to scream for it wasn’t her voice she heard, nor was it her body that slipped slowly down against the doorframe she had been so desperately clutching just moments ago.

“NOOOO!! Nooooooo!” Valentine wailed as she slipped slowly down, her cries reverberating through the doorway down the grand entrance, echoing through the generations of Tietjens portraits and for all to hear.

Christopher had been in back paddock when Maddie had arrived telling him of the depot truck’s immediate arrival. Christopher dropped work shovel and sprinted up the back walkway, eating up the distance with his long legs. He was never a good runner in the past, but today he found the will to run swiftly. He arrived at the back patio, taking the steps two at a time, greeting Hannah, who was waiting with tears streaming down her face. He paused, but she only pointed to the open door. He saw the truck, he could see the officers standing, Valentine’s slim figure braced upon the doorway, gripping it for dear life. And then he heard her scream.

Christopher rushed down the hall, reaching Valentine in moments, gathering her limp, screaming body against his own solid form. He then saw Daniel as he levered the wooden box from the truck. _Alexander._

“Our baby! Oh god, Christopher!” Valentine cried into Christopher’s chest, as he held her to him. His own tears flowing as he watched wooden box was carried into Groby. As Daniel reached his parents sobbing forms, he embraced them both, Valentine’s arm grasping almost painfully to his side.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Daniel whispered over and over to them both. Christopher, his eyes red and brimming with tears, gripped the back of his son’s head.

“It’s alright. You’re home. You’re both home.” Christopher whispered fiercely, kissing his son’s brow, pulling him closer. Valentine cries continued, but she refused to let go of Daniel. Christopher relinquished his wife to his wounded son as he walked her past the box used as a makeshift coffin, shielding her eyes from the sight. Christopher was left alone, standing in the doorway of Groby, his eldest son’s body within the building’s safe confines. Christopher watched as Daniel and Valentine moved into the living area silently. The servants were crying, Hannah, Zoe, Thomas, Edward, Emma, all arrived and how stood staring at the box and their father. Christopher peered up into the gallery of portraits, searching.

_What do I do?_ Christopher thought. His body made the decision for him, as he slowly sunk to his knees next to the coffin. His chin, cheeks, and mouth trembled as he placed his hands reverently upon the coffin that held his eldest son’s remains. Christopher sobbed loudly as his hands felt the cold wood, his shoulders quaking in emotion.

“No. Not him. Not my boy.” Christopher sobbed softly. It wasn’t that he loved Alexander more than any of the children. But Alexander was special to both himself and Valentine. He had been their love child. He was the one they created in defiance of all, when it seemed everyone and everything was against them. He was the one Christopher had first witnessed suckle at Valentine’s breast. The first to call him Papa. Yes, he was special. And now he was gone.


	26. Of White Roses, Sweet William, and Lilies

Daniel slept for almost 24 hours after arriving at Groby. Valentine did not leave his side the entire time, watching him as he slept in the room had shared with Alexander for years. There were more than enough rooms at Groby for both boys to have their own rooms, but they would hear none of it. They seemed to enjoy each other company, and the jovial hazing that came along with brotherhood. Valentine glanced often to the now eternally empty bed across the room. She couldn’t bear to look at it. Looking at it gave her fits of sputtering sobs which she tried to control in fear of waking Daniel. Several times, Margie or Christopher, would attempt to convince Valentine to get some rest, but she refused to leave Daniel’s side. Once she had fallen asleep in the chair, her head pillowed on the bed side, hand still touching Daniel’s arm. Margie had carefully draped a woolen shawl over Valentine’s shoulders, stroking Valentine’s head gently.

“Poor dear. None should have to go through what you have. Least of all a gentle soul such as you.” Margie whispered. Margie checked on Daniel to be sure no fever was present and shut the door quietly behind her. She resolutely strode to the stairs to check on her other charge, Christopher.

Margie knocked softly on study door, opening it simultaneously. She looked within the dark study, the windows covered in black cloth, the only light coming from the fireplace. Margie saw Christopher sitting on the settee, holding a glass of presumably whiskey, his eyes blood-shot and reddened from his tears. The children, Zoe, Emma, Hannah, Thomas, Edward, were all laying on the floor in front of the fireplace. A mish-mosh of pillows and blankets spread about at the feet of their pensive father. The sight made Margie smile softly. The children would not leave their beloved father alone. And she watched as he gazed at them, a sad smile shadowing across is exhausted face. Margie, a blanket and pillow in hand, she walked cautiously toward Christopher. Extricating the empty whiskey glass from behind made Christopher finally notice Margie’s presence.

“Oh, Hello Margie.” Christopher spoke softly in a somewhat of a slurred tone. Margie placed the pillow on the end of the settee.

“Alright Mr. Christopher. Time to rest your head.” Margie spoke firmly but quietly as to not to disturb the other children. Christopher Tietjens would always be a young boy in her mind, even though at the moment, he was a man well into his fifties. Margie patted the pillow invitingly. Christopher slowly stretched out the settee, his shoed feet propped on the end. Margie came to the other end, removing the shoes efficiently, and tucking a warm blanket around Christopher.

“Thank you, Margie. For everything.” Christopher whispered as his eyes drifted shut. Margie smiled sweetly at the man before him, seeing the boy she had practically raised.

“Sweet Christopher.” Margie whispered as she stroked Christopher’s cheek. Margie had always known Christopher was different from other boys, much different that his brother Mark. It was true Christopher’s mother dotted upon him, but Margie thought it wonderful that Christopher had such a close and loving relationship with this mother. His mother had encouraged him to be studious and honorable. Traits long lost on many boys as the change into men. But not Christopher – Tory to the end.

oOo

A few days went by and arrangements for Alexander’s funeral had to be made. Mrs. Wannop arrived from her home not far from Groby. Her first concern being for her daughter’s health, as she was well aware of the nothing could undo the tragic loss of precious Alexander.

Mrs. Wannop found her daughter wrapped in a blanket on the back patio area, a cool cup of untouched tea on the café table near her chair. She seemed to gazing far off into the distance, even though the Teitjens children were playing nearby.

“Grandma!!!” The each squealed with delight. This broke through Valentine’s contemplation as the children rushed to their Grandmother’s side. Mrs. Wannop greeted each child individually, asking each about something they had spoken of or written to her about recently. When she finally came to little Zoe, only seven years old, the little girl did not seem happy to see her Grandma. Mrs. Wannop gathered the sad child in her arms.

“My goodness, child. What is the matter? Are you not happy to see your Grandma?” Zoe shook her head slowly and silently, fat tears growing in her eyes as she looked at her Grandma.

“Alex is gone. They put him in the box.” Zoe cried softly. Mrs. Wannop nodded softly, stroking the fat tears away with her lace handkerchief.

“Yes. I know. That is why I am here. To be with you. To with all of you.” Mrs. Wannop explained as she looked from each child, whose once bright faces slowly melted into faces of sorrow at their youngest sibling’s frank announcement.

“I don’t want to go in the box. I don’t want to die.” Zoe cried softly again to her Grandma, the sound of a being that has confronted with the reality of life at the ripe old age of seven.

“Shhhh, sweeting. You’re not going into the box. Your Grandma would never allow it, you hear me. Never.” Mrs. Wannop spoke in a half-hearted tone, meant to lighten the mood a bit. Mrs. Wannop poked lightly at Zoe side to tickle her, which accomplished in making the girl laugh softly.

However, Valentine, having returned to her meditative state deep within herself, ignoring both her children and her mother as they left the patio area.

Mrs. Wannop, removed her traveling clothes and found Christopher looking out the window to the back patio in the kitchen. Mrs. Wannop walked up to him, gazing out as well, knowing full well what, or who, he was watching. Her daughter sat in the chair, unmoved for what seemed all day, as she gazed into oblivion. Mrs. Wannop, tucked her hand into Christopher’s elbow, but he did not meet her gaze.

“She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t eat. She barely sleeps. Only when exhaustion over takes her, and then its fitful.” Christopher spoke softly. “She seems adrift in a sea of grief and I am on the land yelling for her, but she does not hear me. She hears no one.” Christopher explained.

“Funeral has to be arranged soon. The body won’t...” Christopher paused as he swallowed loudly. Mrs. Wannop nodded in acknowledgement, bringing his head down so she could kiss his cheek.

“Let me speak to her. A mother can always reach her child, no matter the barrier erected.” Mrs. Wannop gave Christopher’s hand a light squeeze in encouragement, and he watched as Mrs. Wannop took a seat next to her seemingly adrift daughter.

oOo

Mrs. Wannop sat for a bit watching her daughter quietly. Mrs. Wannop, noting being faint of heart, took a deep breath, clutching her knees slightly.

“I lost a child once.” Mrs. Wannop stated gently, directing her gaze to where Valentine looked.

“A boy, just so happens. A sweet little boy.” Mrs. Wannop looked down at her lace handkerchief in her lap, playing lightly with the edges.

Valentine gaze broke, and looked at her mother. Mrs. Wannop seeing that she had captured her daughter’s attention, continued.

“It was before you were born, you see. Your father and I were newly married, snogging each other constantly, and of course one thing lead to another, and poof….James was born.” Mrs. Wannop explained lightly and with a smile.

“He was a good, strong boy. Happy, willful, and beautiful.” Mrs. Wannop looked away, dabbing lightly at her eyes as she remembered. “I was pregnant with you when he died.”

“How old was he?” Valentine asked softly.

“Five.” Mrs. Wannop responded to her now responsive daughter. She knew she was reaching her, she continued.

“We was five when he fell ill from influenza. He was so sick, your father wouldn’t let me near him for fear I was lose you. So he kept me away.” Mrs. Wannop took a deep breath. “But one day, I could not stand it, I could not stand to be separated from him. So I went to his room. I could hear his labored breathing, his struggle to live.” Her voice quivered with emotion.

“I could not bear to hear him suffer so.” Another deep breath…”So I kissed his pale cheek, and told him I loved him, and took the pillow from under his head and…ended his suffering.”

Valentine gasped, Mrs. Wannop continued. “Your father believed he had died from his sickness. But I could not watch him slowly waste away. I never told him. I never told anyone. It was my burden to bear. As it is all mothers who lose their children too soon.” Mrs. Wannop clasped her daughter’s face in her hands and looked solemnly into Valentine sorrowful eyes.

“But I lived knowing that I would have other children. You heavy in my womb at that very moment, and then your brother.” Mrs. Wannop spoke earnestly but directly.

“You have eight children who need you, Valentine. Do not forsake them in your sorrow. You have a husband to share in your burden. Embrace the time you had with sweet Alexander, do not try to forget it.”

“Oh Mama! He was…my…first. My first everything…he was the start… of my beautiful life with Christopher. “ Valentine cried and sobbed, hiccupping between her cries.

“I know my dear, I know. The first ones are always special, no matter how many children you possess. Alexander was a brave and honorable man, just like his father. Just like you. Strong and proud.” Mrs. Wannop stroked her daughter’s head gently.

“I would gladly had made him weak and scared if it meant he would still be here with me.” Valentine sobbed.

“You don’t mean that. My dear, you will never forget this grief you feel. It will always be with you, no matter how much you try to forget it or bury it. It will always be there. It will come upon you in the strangest moments, at the market when you smell something that reminds you of him, when you read a book you know he would enjoy. The grief never goes away, but it lessens over time. It lessens.”

“How long before…I don’t feel…that the grief lessens?” Valentine asked curiously.

“I don’t know my dear. But you have a family that should help and things to be done. Sometimes those things help at least distract us from our grief. And in those small moments when it becomes overwhelming, you have a husband who you should turn to.” Mrs. Wannop looked to the window, but Christopher was not there.

“He needs you as well, Valentine. Do you think his grief is any less? It was his son who was lost as well. And for a while, it seems he lost his wife as well.” Mrs. Wannop stated with a bit of accusation, as she leaned back and watched her daughter come to this realization.

“Oh my god! Mother, I have been awful! Oh, my poor Christopher. What have I done!?” Valentine sobbed softly into her hands. Mrs. Wannop grasped both of Valentine’s hand moving them away from her face.

“Go to him. Love him. Love your family. And never forget you have to be strong. That does not mean you cannot mourn, but you must think not of the dead, for there is nothing that can be done for them. But the living, there is where you must focus your energy…living. That is the burden of motherhood.”

Valentine nodded, resolutely stood and rushed to the patio doors, shouting, “Christopher?!!”

Mrs. Wannop smiled sadly, for she feared this would not be the last sorrow her daughter would have to endure in this awful time. But for a moment, she closed her eyes and remembered her son, James, as the sun slowly appeared from behind the clouds.

oOo

Soon word of Alexander’s death and Daniel’s return spread around Yorkshire. Telegrams, letters of condolences, flowers started to be delivered.

Valentine and Christopher, now reconciled, were stoic in their resolution to make the occasion as joyous as possible. A celebration of a life and of the young man Alexander was. The local mortuary was holding Alexander’s body. The funeral would be held in 2 days time, his body laid in the family mausoleum, where Christopher’s father and mother were buried.

Michael was making his way from America, Mark and Marie were traveling to Groby as well. MacMaster, sans Edith, was also on his way to Groby. All should arrive in time for services, however Isabel was unable to be granted leave to come back.

Valentine requested a few items be placed in his coffin with him. His favorite book, _Robinson Crusoe_ , the pages dog-eared and well loved by its owner. The most recent family portrait was placed next to his head. And a small portrait of Valentine and Alex taken a few months after he was born in a gilt silver frame.

“Are you sure you want to part with it, Valentine?” Christopher asked solemnly as they both looked at the picture she picked up from the mantle fireplace in their bed chamber. On this mantle, the more private and intimate photos and mementos were kept for their pleasure only. The mantle was crowded with items, all precious and dear to them both. There was no way to copy to photo as it was very old tin-type photograph. Valentine remember when it was taken.

A man in Hyde Park was selling photos and Christopher wanted a picture of his newborn son and Valentine. It was scandalous, but what did they care. At the time, in London, the Tietjens name was synonymous with scandal thanks to Sylvia.

So the picture had been taken, and it became something of a tradition for Valentine to sit for a photograph with each newborn child. Over the years, photography had advanced, eliminating the long sit times, but still it was something they did.

“No, I am sure. I want him to have something he can remember our time together.” Valentine spoke softly as she stroked the small face in the photograph.

“Splendid idea.” Christopher responded, looking at the photo with a heavy heart.

oOo

The funeral was a resigned affair. The pallbearers being local members of the parish as well as Thomas and Edward, since all of the young boys from Alexander’s youth were gone, and Daniel was too wounded to carry such a weight. Instead, he walked beside his mother. His father on one side and he on the other, to ensure if she fainted both would be there for her. But she did not faint. She walked wrath like behind the pallbearers, stood silently between Christopher and Daniel.

The only time Daniel thought his mother was close to losing her composure was as the wood coffin was slid into the mausoleum niche next to his grandfather. The sound of the bottom of the coffin sliding over the stone surface loud and grating. Valentine jerked suddenly and gasped, whimpering at the same moment. His father too seemed to wince at the sound. The final push and the cover was raised to be placed over the niche.

“Wait!” Valentine cried out. The attendants paused and slowly lowered the niche cover. Valentine, who was holding a bouquet of white roses, sweet William, and lilies started to walk forward. The niche was eye level, a little taller than Valentine. Valentine paused at the first step, remembering her mother’s words. She turned to Christopher taking his hand, then turned to Daniel. Valentine then turned to her other children behind them. Handing the bouquet of flowers to Christopher, she waved.

“Children, come along. Emma, take Zoe’s hand, please. Michael would you escort Hannah. Thomas, Edward, come stand by your father.” Slowly the children moved in front of Valentine. Christopher’s eyes filled with joy and sorrow as they walked towards the coffin now safely positioned within the niche. Valentine and Christopher could hear the whispers from people behind them. She did not care.

The Tietjens family paused, and slowly each sibling reached and touched the dark wood coffin, saying soft good byes. The younger children were lifted by the elder children. Zoe placed a soft kiss on the side, her wet kiss marking the coffin, easily visible. Finally, Daniel walked gingerly to the coffin, Valentine’s throat tightened at the sight. He placed his hand and his forehead on the coffin, gripping the pallbearer handles tightly. He said nothing, just stood there for a few moments and pushed away quickly and walked back to Michael, who was waiting for him. Daniel cried softly on his brother’s shoulder.

Christopher and Valentine stood alone in front of the niche. The moved closer to the niche. Christopher stood behind Valentine, she felt him move and watched as he reached up and touched the coffin as well. Christopher shivered and Valentine covered his hand on the coffin with her own. In silent solidarity, the held their son for the last time. Valentine placed the bouquet of flowers next to the coffin, nodding to the attendants to place the cover.

“Good-bye, Alexander.” She whispered breathlessly as she closed her eyes as the niche was sealed for eternity. All she could feel was Christopher’s solid weight and arms wrapped around her protectively.


	27. Healing

Word of the Blitz reached Groby quickly. However, Isabel’s letter’s continued to miraculously arrive. Valentine read each one holding her breath, at times unable to finish them, silently handing it to Christopher. The announcement of Isabel’s marriage to a soldier named George was greeted with the shock most appropriate for parents reeling from the tragic loss of a son, the physical and mental recovery of another, and the management of a house full of children.

Christopher carried Valentine into the living room gingerly, her head lolling on his shoulder as he laid her on the sofa. Valentine, still clutching Isabel’s letter, slowly regained consciousness, as Christopher stroked her flushed cheeks. It had only been a few months since they had laid Alexander to rest. Valentine had been surprisingly resilient in the aftermath, focusing her attentions on Daniel’s recovery.

Christopher and Valentine drew closer to each other in those months. Much like that had when Christopher had first returned from the war. However, they could not just lock themselves away in their cocoon of mutual grief; they had a family now that needed them both, in very real and different ways. Especially, Daniel.

His wounds ran deep, deeper than the physical or even mental. Christopher had taken the mantel of confidant, mentor, and confessor to his unfortunate son. Daniel suffered from survivor’s guilt, believing he should have died rather than Alexander, or at least died with him.

Christopher nodded solemnly, cracking the hazelnut with his strong hands as he sat with Daniel under the Groby Tree. The tree had flourished over the years, growing strong, its limbs stretching out further to provide more and more shade. A refuge of sorts, decorated in memories. Many of them from Alexander. Christopher heard the small wind chime ring with the breeze. The wind chime Alexander had purchased for his mother during Yuletide when he was only 8 years old with money he had earned from working hard in the stables for a summer. The sound made Christopher smile. He glanced at Daniel, so weary and frail it would seem he would blow away like ash,

“You say you wished you had died with Alexander.” Christopher paused as the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Daniel only glanced at his father cautiously. “You wished to have your family lose you both? Endure the tragic loss of two sons, brothers, friends?”

“It would have been easier than going on living, knowing…I just don’t understand, Father. I was…was there. The grenade drop between us both, but only Alexander was killed. Why?” Daniel pleaded, describing the moment of Alexander’s demise.

Christopher had not asked, only listened, as good leaders are want to do…just listen. Daniel would speak in fits and spurts, sometimes quite animatedly about his feelings. But most of the time he was quiet. It was the quiet that hurt most. The wind chime jingled and tinkled again in the breeze. Christopher looked up at it again.

“Theirs is not to reason why, but to do and die.” Christopher stated, quoting Lord Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade. “War has no explanation, Daniel. Because of war your mother was denied my love for a time. And now, she has lost a son to a cause that she cannot support. It is no wonder that your mother is a pacifist. Sweet, kind, and gentle.” Christopher’s voice trailed off as he gazed to the house in the distance. “But you know she would go to war with Satan himself to keep us safe. And I am confident she would win that war.” Daniel chuckled softly along with his father at the image of petite Valentine battling a horned beast in the fiery pit of flames, and winning.

“Daniel,” Christopher paused, “you are very precious to us. If loosing Alexander meant you could survive and come home to us, I would not change what happened in the slightest. Nor would Alexander want to change what happened either.” Christopher placed a hand on his son’s hunched shoulder, squeezing it gently in reassurance. “He loved you, Daniel. He would not want you to persecute yourself for living. He would want you to live.”

“I know, Father.” Daniel whispered, covering his father’s hand with his own.

“In my experience in war, Daniel, the easier route is always dying. The more difficult route is always living, dealing with…knowing…the horrors of war. But there is a certain joy when you embrace your survival and take the knowing and make it believing….” Christopher paused moving out from under the shade of the Groby tree, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed up at the ornaments and trinkets on and within the tree. “You must believe you survived for a purpose Daniel. Only then will things start to fall back into their correct and rightful place. Only then.”

Daniel looked at his father, so strong and honorable. He thought of the terrible things he had thought of the man not so long ago.

“Willomena has been by to visit quite a few times, Daniel. You should not continue to spurn her affections. She is very concerned for you.” Christopher advised his son. Daniel looked away, slightly ashamed at his refusal to see Willomena in the past few weeks. It was fine when he was still wounded, delirious due to the painkillers. But as his mind returned to normal, he did not want to be faced with the face he would get to see his love, but Alexander would not.

“I think I will ring her in a bit. See if she’s like to come by for tea. If that is acceptable with you.” Daniel asked cautiously.

“I think that would be a lovely idea, Daniel. Your mother and sisters with be delighted.” Christopher nodded with a jaunty smile as he walked away. Daniel rolled his eyes a bit. Clearly his father wanted their visits to be chaperoned. _He is so old fashioned_ , Daniel thought.

oOo

“I cannot believe she would do this!” Valentine stated as she paced in front of the fireplace, having recovered from her faint, waving the abused letter about with a flourish. Christopher pinched the bridge of his nose as his head started to ache.

“Our eldest daughter. Married! No engagement, no church, no wedding, and certainly no permission.” Valentine ranted as she put her hand on her hip and the other on her forehead.

“Clearly there was a wedding of some sort.” Christopher stated, in which Valentine glared at her husband. Christopher looked back at Valentine innocently.

“She may have you wrapped around her little finger. But not me. Oh, no! When she gets back here, I am going to….” Valentine stumbled a bit, realizing her daughter was alive and apparently whole. She had survived the Blitz of London. Valentine coughed and gasped at the same time, whimpering a bit as she came to realize.

“…I’m going to give her the biggest, tightest, warmest hug.” Valentine finished with tears welling her eyes.

“And then I’m going to shake her silly for her impetuous behavior.” Christopher chuckled softly, Valentine huffed a bit at his laughter at Valentine’s outburst.

“Don’t you start with me, Mr. Tietjens.” Valentine crossed her arms across her chest, drumming her fingers on her bent arm. “And don’t think you can keep secrets from me, either. I know…I know about the whiskey.”

“Whatever to do you mean, my dove?” Christopher asked innocently, a sly smile on his face, knowing his secret late nights with his daughter, each with a glass of whiskey, had been uncovered.

“Oh, never mind.” Valentine state with a huff, waving her arms at Christopher, as she marched from the room.

“Where are going?” Christopher called, loosening his tie at his throat a bit.

“To write to my espoused wayward daughter.” Valentine called as she rushed up the stairs to the writing desk in their shared bedroom.

oOo

Another month went by. Willomena was visiting Daniel almost daily. Almost all their visits were chaperoned, but they had managed to have a few, private moments together.

Valentine was reading in bed next to Christopher who was reading as well. Valentine closed her book and sighed.

“Do you think Daniel will ask Mina to marry him?” Valentine asked absently, staring at the fireplace, picking at the quilt. Christopher did not pause as he responded.

“I suppose. It seems only logical. They are very taken with one another.”

“Has he spoken to you about it?” Valentine inquired, turning slightly towards Christopher.

“Not at all. Daniel keeps his own counsel. He always has. I suppose when he is ready he will ask us I am sure.” Christopher stated gently, returning to his reading. Valentine chewed her lip a bit, thinking.

“Do you think…do you think they have been intimate already?” Valentine asked curiously to her husband, who looked at her incredulously.

“Certainly not…Daniel is…”Christopher started to explaining, defending is son.

“It’s just that. You told about what happened, in the stables at her father’s farm. If they were doing that then, well now with his life almost lost…”

“Daniel is a good and honorable man. He would not compromise young Mina so.” Christopher stated mater-of-factly.

“You were a young and honorable man, too. You compromised me.” Valentine teased, as she ran her hand down her husband’s arm suggestively. Valentine moved closer to Christopher.

“That…was different.” Christopher whispered as Valentine started to kiss his neck and nip at his ear. Christopher’s eyes drifted shut at the wonder feeling his wife was evoking on his mind and body. Christopher remembered seeing Valentine’s naked body for the first time, feeling her soft lips on his, their first moments together in the camp bed at the Gray’s Inn flat.

“How was it different, my dear?” Valentine whispered as she rose up and straddled Christopher’s hips quite wantonly. Her night gown riding up her thighs, her feet pressing into the backs of Christopher’s legs. Christopher rose up and gathered his wife close to him, the delicate straps of her night gown slipping easily off her narrow shoulders, exposing her breasts to him.

It had been a long time since they had been intimate. But at this moment if felt right, and they feasted upon each other like travelers long without water finding pure, sweet oasis. Their love-making fierce and powerful, like back in the early days of their unofficial union.

No other words were expressed as Christopher moved within Valentine, their breaths mingling in their frantic need and desire. Still half clothed, they gripped onto each other, their pace quickening. Soon, they were both tumbling over the edge into oblivion, with no thoughts of past, present, and future.

oOo

Isabel stood at the gate of Groby staring at the imposing façade of the place she was born and had grown up in. Funny, she had never been imitated by his grandeur, but now she could feel her hands become clammy holding her suitcase in her hand. She had made the trip back from London as soon as she received word she was allowed to. She had survived the Blitz, she could survive facing her parents regarding his spontaneous decision to marry George. Isabel looked down at her left hand at the plain silver band there. Perhaps it was hasty, but she did not regret it as she remembered her short time with George.

He was kind, gentle, caring…but he had a passionate side Isabel came to find out which both thrilled and surprised her. The memories of their somewhat awkward wedding night brought a smile to her face. The subsequent days they spent together. Then the sad farewell at the train. She did not want to let go of his hand as the train moved away, but soon she could not keep up as the train sped up. George had continued to wave and smile until the smoke from the train fully obscured him from view.

Isabel was not prone to emotion. She supposed she was much like her father, although she often thought her father the most emotional man she had ever met. He just controlled it better than most. But admittedly, Isabel waivered as she stood at the end of the drive. She had not contacted her family prior to her arrival. She hoped that her surprise arrival would work in her favor to at least distract them, especially her mother.

Isabel remembered her mother’s somewhat terse and slightly accusatory letter she received a few weeks ago. Isabel, sad from the departure of her new husband to Africa and the loss of her dear brother, did not appreciate her mother’s words.

_I do not understand why you have done this, Isabel. I am not unfamiliar to the desires and demands of youth. I fear you have made yet another rash decision, much like your decision to join the Women’s Auxiliary Service in London._

Those three sentences told her all she needed to know about her mother’s feelings about her marriage to George, no matter how her mother tried to intersperse her chipped commentary among the rest of the letter. Isabel was no weak-kneed duck, she had faced the most that man had been able to throw at her. She could face one small woman, she really could.

“Moment of truth.” Isabel whispered, levering her suitcase to her other hand and releasing the breath she had not realized she was holding, starting walking up the drive, into the shadow of her home.

Marchie was the first to see Isabel walk through the door. The stack of pressed bed sheets she had been caring fell from her hands carelessly, as Isabel carefully set her suitcase down in the grand hallway, unbutton her coat. Isabel saw Marchie then and smiled.

“Oh! Oh my beautiful girl!” Marchie announced enthusiastically, rushing to Isabel and embracing the young woman. “You are home. Your parents said nothing of your impending arrival?” Marchie commented curiously.

“That’s because I didn’t inform them. Surprise.” Isabel smiled at her former nanny.

“Oh!! Well, I think they will be very surprised, indeed.” Marchie nodded brightly, moving away to go find Christopher and Valentine.

“Indeed.” Isabel stated under her breath as she wandered down the hallway. The house was surprising quiet given number of people residing there. Isabel paused at the most recent family portrait. Isabel paused, gazing at the moment captured. She stared at Alexander’s face, she swallow noisily.

“Well, well….the wayward daughter returns.” Came a joking male voice from the stairs, moving quietly closer on the steps.

“Daniel!” Isabel squealed, rushing to embrace her brother in her arms. The giggled as they embraced, swaying softly in comfort of each other’s arms.

“I’m so glad you are okay.” Isabel whispered into Daniel’s crisp shirt. Daniel smiled into Isabel’s hair.

“As I am glad you are okay as well.” Daniel moved Isabel away from their embrace, looking with a glint in his eye. “Although, I am not sure how glad you will be once mother gets a hold of you.” Daniel joked, chucking his knuckle under Isabel’s chin. Isabel rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I am well aware of her displeasure.” Isabel paused, looking at Daniel critically. “Are you…truly…well, Daniel?”

Daniel nodded shyly. Isabel knew it was not totally true, but she would not press.

“How is father? I mean, about…you know…everything?” Isabel paused. “It’s just…he hasn’t written me…and I wasn’t sure…” Isabel voice trailed off.

“He’s well, considering everything he and mother have had to endure.” Seeing his sister’s distress, stroked her upper arm lightly.

“Have no fear, Isabel. They still love you. I just think they just…well…who knows. Boy, I am rrreaally not good at this.” Daniel stated trying to reassure her.

oOo

Later that evening, Isabel sat in her father’s office with her mother, her father relinquished his daughter to the tender mercies of his wife. Although he was not sure how tender the conversation would actually be. The conversation since Isabel’s arrival had carefully avoided any detailed conversation about her married state by her parents.

Isabel walked her father to the door of the office, remaining there for a moment longer than needed. Valentine sat on the settee, her hands folded in her lap, feet crossed at the ankles, waiting.

“He worried…about you so much.” Valentine stated absently. Isabel turned and walked to her mother.

“I know. I could hear it in his voice whenever I called, although he tried to hide it.” Isabel responded, smiling sadly, standing across her mother, worrying the nail of her cuticle.

“Come. Sit.” Valentine patted the place next to her on the settee. “We need to talk. Get this out of the way so we can get this situation sorted.”

Isabel was immediately on the defensive as she moved to sit down. Valentine saw the stiffness of her daughter’s spine as she sat. _So like your father_ , Valentine thought as she considered her eldest daughter. Valentine knew her daughter was ready for battle. It would not be the first or last clash between them.

“I know what you are going to say mother. And it doesn’t matter…not now. I just hope that you and Papa will welcome George when he returns home.” Isabel stated seriously, looking directly at her mother.

“You know what I am going to say, huh?” Valentine stated with a slight arch of her right eyebrow at her daughter.

“Well, if your letter is any indication of your feelings, then yes. I have a fairly good idea of what you are going to say.” Isabel continued forcefully, “I figured you can save your recriminations regarding MY decision.”

“Recriminations? Is that what you think?” Valentine responded a bit shocked.

“Of course!” Isabel stated, reaching into her pocket for the well-worn letter Valentine had sent to Isabel many weeks ago. Isabel held the letter in her grip, and repeated the words. Having re-read the letter possibly a hundred time, she knew the words by heart.

 _“’I do not understand why you have done this, Isabel. I am not unfamiliar to the desires and demands of youth. I fear you have made yet another rash decision, much like your decision to join the Women’s Auxiliary Service in London.’_ So familiar?” Isabel stated, her own right eyebrow coming up as she looked at her mother. “I know you think I am making a terrible mistake. But it is my mistake to make.”

 Valentine tucked her head a bit, remembering writing the words, hearing her daughter’s voice.

“Explain it to me then. Explain why it had to be then? Right then. Why couldn’t you have waited until…?” Valentine asked but was interrupted.

“Until what, mother? Until when? After the war? When’s that going to be? What if this war goes on for another 10 years? Is all life on hold, only death continues on? Besides what difference does it make? Even if I explain why, you still won’t approve.” Isabel responded, looking at the letter again.

Valentine’s lips pressed in a thin line, her jaw clinching softly thinking of the war continuing for 10 more years. The idea that potentially the twins Thomas and Edward being drawn into the fray. Valentine closed her eyes to clear the image.

“Besides, I am not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions without your approval.” Isabel’s chin shot up a bit as she looked her mother, “Isn’t that what you did?”

  _She knows_ , Valentine thought. Valentine recognized that gossip dies hard, and being in London, even over twenty years later, apparently the Tietjens name was still tinged with infamy.

“I waited ten years for your father.” Valentine stated passionately, almost through her teeth as she spoke to her impassioned daughter.

“But you didn’t wait for him to truly be free from his first wife, Michael’s mother, before you…became his mistress.” Isabel stated calmly.

“No. I did not. But that does not excuse you to disregard everything, throw it all to wind, with a man you really hardly know, Isabel.” Valentine explained. “I knew who your father was, I knew what kind of man he was. It was only after…so long… that we finally acted upon our mutual…devotion to each other.” Valentine struggled to define her own decision to her daughter. This gave Valentine pause in her thoughts.

“I know George. It may not have been ten years, but I know him. And he knows me. And now he’s out there, in harm’s way. He’s my husband. Surely you can remember when Papa was in the war, waiting for him.”

“I do remember. But your father was such an honorable man, he won’t even write to me. Not directly. He would send letters to your Grandma.” Valentine continued, “But I know that in war everything is elevated. What might have been a passing attraction in a normal time, is a grand love during war. What happens after the war, Isabel?”

“Well, George and I discussed have discussed it. And we will be moving to Cardiff, in Wales as soon as the war is over and he is released from duty.”

“I see.” Valentine nodded, looking away.

“Oh, mother. Can’t you just be happy for me? I somehow doubt Grandma was supportive of you becoming Papa’s mistress.” Isabel stated absently.

“No, she was not.” Valentine chuckled, seeing how canny Isabel had maneuvered the conversation. “She was quite upset, truth be told. And like you, I had to face her. But she loved me, and she forgave Christopher, eventually.” Valentine took a deep breath.

“So I suppose I can try and forgive George….eventually.” Valentine smiled at her daughter, who launched herself into her mother’s arms.

“I love you, Mother.”

“I love you too, Isabel.”


End file.
